A few months back, my oldest son started swallowing his T’s. Instead of “Lawton,” he’d say “Law’on.”

Interesting became inneressing, captains turned into cap’ns, and mountains were suddenly mao’uns.

It’s been driving me absolutely crazy. I’ve tried everything I can to get him to stop, and have finally been reduced to that most worthless of parenting techniques: threatening.

“Swallow another t,” I said the other day, “and you’re done eating for the day.” We had just sat down for dinner, and he had unleashed torrent of t-less words.

Unreasonable, I know… Did I mention it was driving me crazy?

“That’s pre’-ey rough,” his little brother said.

“What did you say?”

“I said it was pret-oh no!”

I swung my dangerous daddy glare back and forth between them. “Now you’re doing it, too? It’s like some sort of weird disease!”

“Don’t worry Daddy,” the little guy said. “I won’t swallow my ee’s!”

There was a moment of silence as I stared at him, then he burst out laughing.

“Eee’s?” his older brother said. “”You said you won’t swallow your . .” Suddenly, he figured it out, and started laughing so hard that tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes.

“Come on, Dad.” The little miscreant said. “That was pretty funny. Ya gotta admit it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled. “Just eat your dinner.”

“Ees!” his older brother crowed. He won’ swallow his ees!”



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