The 11 y.o. girl child spells it like it is... well, almost like it is. She once wrote me a note and called me Cwen Christy. I enjoy this vision of me, the queen of my world, with the crown on my head sitting just a little crooked. It's certainly true... only it's off a bit. I think it's not such a stretch.
So, the phonetic speller thing makes for big fun here at the house. I've saved homework assignments, love notes, and grocery lists that look as cryptic as FBI's secret code:
toylt papr
mlk
qcmber
bred
Of course, when I'm at the store (wondering what in the hell I'm supposed to buy) I must remember to sound out the words. Naturally, her intention is perfectly clear.
The problem is the lazy streak that occasionally rears its ugly head. Perhaps it's an impatient streak... she spares no time for double checking! Other times, I suspect straight up arrogance, she simply couldn't be wrong. Why bother with all this second guessing.
I submit to you Exhibit A:
My son is the lone meat eater in a house full of vegetarians and recently, I found this note on a container of leftovers in the fridge. He cooked "real" meat and my daughter was, it appears, concerned that my wife or I would mistake the leftovers as our ready to eat faux meat products.
Where else in the world can a woman discover (in her own kitchen) a container of leftover pork sausage links with a sticky note warning that reads, "Don't eat real sauge"?
That's so freaking owesome!
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