A little bit of conversational whiplash for you

All of my children, perhaps all children, love to share stream of consciousness thoughts with others. Usually mid-stream with zero context, but that’s neither here nor there. We’re really working on teaching ours to explain the circumstances surrounding a statement or question before launching it out into the void. We’ve a ways to go.

The eldest informed me last week that she’s been saying the word “raisin” wrong her whole life. Did you know it’s actually “rayslin?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t teach me how to say ‘rayslin’ correctly,” she accused.

“That’s because it’s not ‘rayslin’ it’s raisin. So I did. Do you think it’s possible you saw the letter i and thought it was a lowercase L?”

*squinty skeptical look*

The topic was broached again in the car, where all life altering conversations occur. It was brought up on the heels of a conversation about diabetes, and what exactly diabetes is. This is important context to understand the following dialogue. See how I provide context? It’s a skill that not all are born with.

J: I think when I was little I just couldn’t pronounce it so you told me to leave the ‘L’ sound out.
Me: What are you even talking about?
J: Rayslin. I probably couldn’t say my letter L so you told me to just keep it out.
Me: No, I taught you to say raisin because the word is raisin.
J: My friends at school call them rayslins and that’s what they are.
Me: I’m not sure we’re going to hold your third grade class up as the standard on dialectic norms. I can assure you the word is ‘raisin’ and while I may not be entirely clear on diabetes cause and effects I am clear that the word is raisin. Perhaps if you eat too many of them you will get diabetes, but I can’t confirm that.
J: What are funeral homes?
*whiplash*
Me: Where dead people go. To be prepared to be put in the ground.
J: Ohhh. Okay. I thought old people went there when they couldn’t take care of themselves anymore.
Me: That’s one way to put it.
J: So that’s where they make the gravestone.
Me: I suppose. Or arrange the details of it. I don’t think that’s the first priority of a funeral home but I imagine it falls in the list somewhere.
J: Okay. This is something I need to know. How would you like your gravestone prepared? Like, what if you die tonight and I need to arrange the details of your gravestone? You should tell me.
Me: Are you asking what words I’d like on my gravestone or what color or shape?
J: Everything.
Me: I know exactly what I want written on it, ‘Mom you were right, the word is raisin. Rest in peace.’
*snort*
J: And the color?
Me: Grey will do.

*whiplash*
J: Oh my word. Is that a golf course? I’ve never noticed it before.
(it’s the neighborhood on our way to town, we drive past it every day)
Me: It is indeed.
J: No. You’re wrong. It’s not a golf course.
Me: Why do you ask me questions when you’ve already decided the answer?
J: Sometimes I just wonder if you actually know things.
Me: I know a lot of things.
J: Not diabetes. You didn’t know about diabetes. Or rayslins. Also, I think the word should be ‘vacteria’ not ‘bacteria.’ I think you’ve been telling me ‘bacteria’ my whole life and that’s wrong, it sounds dumb.

Perhaps we’ve entered a phase that foreshadows the teen years because I suddenly find all my children asking me questions and immediately rejecting my answer as incorrect. Also, you know what sounds dumb? Intentionally using the wrong word, but I digress.

I promised a post on baby chicks, but that will have to wait as I must collate all the pictures of said chicks and get my facts straight.