I read something the other day about mothers. It described the pride when a child that had been pronouncing a word wrong finally began saying it correctly, and how there was the pride they had learned the correct way to say the word, but sadness to no longer hear that adorable mispronunciation.

I kind of relate even without kids. Our good friend’s little girl called Oklahoma Hocaholma for years. When she could say Oklahoma a tiny bit of babyhood was gone.

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