Dialects

When you hail from Boston and your husband hails from South Jersey you cannot help but have this gnawing fear in the back of your head. What the hell kind of accent will my child end up with? A cross between James Gandolfino and Donnie Wahlberg? Chris Christie and Tip O'Neill? Sweet mother he'll be mistaken for Chelsea Handler and Steven Wright's love child on voice alone.

Would you like a lemon with your wooder/wahtah becomes woodah. Right? Apparently not. It is still water.

Blueberry on the other hand? Um... try bluebrerry (try saying that 3 times fast). Frog? Flog.

My husband twists his r's. I drop them all together (or add them where they don't belong) but our son? Oh no he has to one up us and replace them with an L.

I understood when he messed up the title to one of his book. "A Crack in the Track" became "A Track in the Crack" (I'll never look at plumbers the same).  I even understood when he informed me that turtles, fish, dolphins, etc. lived in the lotion (half expected him to empty all my lotion bottles in search of said turtles, fish, dolphins, etc.).

But bluebrerry? I don't have a clue where that came from. I'm waiting for him to spit out bruebrelly one of these days. I could barely type that. I hope he doesn't expect me to pronounce it.