I have spoken about my son’s accent before.

The Kennedy-esque Nantucket Nasal Nip—it’s a thing, I swear. Twitter and @CLumberKim told me that the Preppy Handbook calls it that, SO THERE—mixed with Eastern European mixed with a twinge of Southern mixed with English English (‘ello Guv’nah!) mixed with deep, deep Canadian.

This week, though. I haven’t been able to stop giggling. This kid, man. I mean, typically accent conversations are ones I am apt to participate in, like the whole ‘do you pronounce Don and Dawn the same way?’ because I, myself, do not, thanks to growing up primarily in the midwest. But I know that some people do, especially the cast of Mad Men, since when Don hired Dawn it became a thing at Sterling, Cooper, Draper, Pryce.

One morning this week, Josh was frantically searching the house for a bobby pin.

Only, it was a BAAAWWWWBBY pin he was asking for.

“Bobby, you mean?”

“Yes. Bawwwwby.”

“No. Baaahby. Like the sheep sound.”

“No. Baaawby.”

“Like the Kennedy?”

“I guess.”

Hmmm.

One morning this week, Josh was talking about lobster.

Only, it was a LAAAAAWWWBSTAH he was talking about.

“Lobster?”

“LAAAAAWSTAH.”

“Lobster?”

“LAAAWBSTER.

“Lobster?”

Hmmm.

I played him this video and he says that he can’t hear a difference.

WHA?

Now I’m worried that I might be having a Hurley in season 2 of LOST when he sees that dude who used to be on Sex & The City walking around the island in a bathrobe kind of moment. Or, you know, a moment where I tell Twitter that I’m spending my evening trying to come up with the perfect Roller Derby name even though I have never done any sort of roller derby ever. The best one I came up with was Punky Bruiser, by the by. But the emails telling me that I would be a kick-ass rollergirl have been really encouraging.

Tell me I’m not crazy. You can hear it, *right*? I mean, do I have to get out the camera and record him saying that “Oh my gOd, he plays hOckey a lOt in his sOcks for a dOllar.” because that one might be my favorite one. Oh my GAWD. I guess I just—mistakenly, I realize—assumed that my children would speak exactly like I do. But they were born in Canada, go to school in Canada, and are surrounded by Canadians. I guess it only makes sense that they would speak absolutely nothing like I do.

(I do, however, adore that they say toque and loonie and twoonie and eh.)

He doesn’t say zed. He doesn’t say Pass-ta or Maz-da or pla-za or dra-ma or ta-co or ll-ama like Canadians, though. And I’m Mama, not Mummy. And he says process, progress, and project the same way I do.

And he knows how pronounce bagel and Las Vegas and shone, though. So at least I have done something right! 

UPDATE!!

I have gone and done the accent VLOG for y’all.

So, I’m supposed to say the following words: Aunt, Route, Wash, Oil, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, Sure, Data, Ruin, Crayon, Toilet, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Spitting image, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Syrup, Pajamas, Caught

And then answer these questions:
What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
What is the bug that when you touch it, it curls into a ball?
What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
What do you call gym shoes?
What do you say to address a group of people?
What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
What do you call your grandparents?
What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
What is the thing you use to change the TV channel?

And then I go over some lovely other words at the end. Hello, ramble!

I forgot, however to mention the way some of my most favorite people on the planet pronounce the words avatar, wifi, and url. It’s adorable, this.

ALSO I NEED BOTOX.