When I was a child we'd go to the state fairgrounds for many reasons. The flea market was there and my father was—and still is—a flea market enthusiast. There was the fair once each year. And then there were other events throughout the year in the different buildings across the grounds.
At the fairgrounds, there is one building that looks entirely different from the others. It's like two intersecting parabolas that make a saddle-like shape. It's a very dramatic building. I've seen it every time I've gone to the fairgrounds for my whole life. Sometimes we went into it for sporting events or concerts. And it had a neat name. It was called, "Dort Narina." Or so I thought.
When I got old enough for my parents to realize I was mispronouncing the name they told me the name was, "Dorton Arena" no doubt named after someone named Dorton who had helped fund the building's construction with a significant donation. As a child I thought this was absurd. No, not the naming after or the donating of money parts. But, "arena?" What kind of strange word is that? Narina sounds much better. Why would they name a building using a word as awkward as "arena?" But so it was named, and now I understand why.
That wasn't the only word confusion I had as a child. Imagine my surprise when I discovered we were packing a "suit case" for our trip to visit my grandparents instead of a "soup case." What was a suit and why would you need to take it with you? Soup would make sense on a trip because you might get hungry.
I remember my mother had the pull-down ladder to the attic and was bringing down our suitcases when I learned this bizarre fact. I asked her if she was sure it was called a "suitcase." She assured me it was. There was nothing to do but believe her. Her explanation of suits and why someone might pack them was reasonable. But I don't think I was able to bring myself to call it a "suitcase" for several years to come.
And there was the big argument over idear. My neighbor and friend, Veda, told me I was saying, "eye-dear" instead of the correct pronunciation of, "eye-dee-uh." This wasn't a friendly discussion because that just sounded dumb to me. She didn't know, I thought. Surely she was wrong. We appealed to her mother for final judgement and as it turns out, there isn't an "r" at the end of the word idea. So I had to adjust to that too.
I've notice my son mis-pronouncing words as he's moving from unintelligible baby babble into baby talk and I wonder what words he'll get confused with as he gets older.
The Big Boy Update: Ellie. He has a friend I didn't know about named Ellie. She's in upper elementary and she walks my son in to his classroom from the drop-off line in the mornings. I didn't know she did this or who she was until this weekend when we were at our all-school social event at the park (the one with all the food) when she shyly came over with her mother and introduced herself. She has red hair and is very cute but her most charming characteristic is her smile. She is sunshine with red hair. I realized I had met her once when I was walking my son in and she offered to take him in, but he wasn't ready to let go of my hand so I took him on in. She seemed to be a little disappointed and I didn't understand why. Now I do. She said really likes him and I think she was sad he didn't want to walk in with her. But now that I know her, I wave to her every morning and tell her, "hi!" through the open door as my son is removed from his car seat. I ask my son about seeing his friend, Ellie, on the ride to school and he says her name and looks happy.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Hoarse. She doesn't have the cough, but she's definitely got a vocal chord thing going on because when she babbles it's all raspy. I am hoping she's getting close to the end of this round of immuno-building contagion she's caught from her brother, the table at the restaurant, the floor of the fitness store, the piece of trash she found and put in her mouth, the hugs from the lady at the chiropractor or, well, fifty-odd other places she could have caught it.
Fitness Update: The highway is louder than you think. My father told me the ambient sound (or decibel level) of the highway was significant. I never cared as a child, but I agree that it's nicer to live away from the loud noise if possible. I got a very good lesson in this when I was running the fifteen miles this weekend. I was in the park, in the woods, with my audio book playing on speaker from my belt pouch. I knew I was getting close to the highway overpass in a mile or so. Eventually I barely heard the sound of the highway. Shortly later, before the bridge was even in sight I thought my volume had been turned down. Nope, still full on. I got closer and I realized the noise from the road alone was so significant that it was dampening out the phone on full volume. By the time I got to the bridge, I couldn't even hear the phone. So dad was right.
Someone Once Said: The only important rule is not to hurt people… which very often consists of not talking unnecessarily.
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