I've been wondering how long it will take for some of our family members to develop accents. Gary is constantly told he sounds exactly like an American at work, and also by our nephew.
Seth is pretty staunch. I don't think he will ever sway from his generic American drawl.
However, Rowan is marching down the road towards Kiwi lingo. I think her first decision to do so was when they were reading a story in class. I happened to be there that day. It was a clue story, so the teacher read, "I'm fast, I have black and white stripes, I am a. . ." and Rowan shouted first before any of her classmates, "ZEEbra!" The other classmates shouted, "ZEHbra!"
Her face went beet red and she looked around at me in horror. I had been teaching her incorrect pronunciation her whole life! I was in for it when I got home.
Here are her adaptations:
1. Mum - switching interchangeably between Mum and Mom (Seth told me adamantly that he will call me Mom forever. Done.)
2. Again - she pronounces it very carefully as "agayne"
3. Tomato - it's toMAHto, not toMAYto
4. Banana - baNAWna not baNAHna
5. Together - dropping the "r," as in "Mum, can Cara and I walk home togethah?"
It's pretty cute. She also likes to correct our pronunciation. She still sounds really American but with enough perserverance, study and hard work (which I think she's trying) she will sound Kiwi through and through - I give it around a year.
As it turns out, I have an accent - a Canadian one. Everyone thinks I'm from Canada, and when I tell them I'm from America, they start chatting about guns.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Monday, April 15, 2013
Murders and Confessions
We recenly had a new roommate chilling with us. She was beautiful, with high cheekbones, a heart shaped face, and large expressive eyes. A pair of antenna on her like you've never seen before.
Her name was Beatrix. She spent a lot of time in the bathroom, then moved to the kitchen for awhile, reducing the moth population significantly. Then she decided to check out the dining room for a little action.
There she met her maker. A member of her own household. A sociopath who played with her a bit before he bit her beautifully formed head off and chowed down on her body like he hadn't eaten in a week.
That's right, we've got a cat.
The confession is mostly mine. In a moment of loneliness on Valentine's day, I adopted this little gray kitten who had been rescued by a policeman from a park. When he was brought to the vet's office his eyes were crusted shut. The vet nursed him back to health and I couldn't resist him when I saw him.
The kids have named him Rigby. I imagine that he subsisted on wetas and people's leftover takeaways from rubbish bins (like my lingo?), because he will eat anything at all if you're willing to share. His favorites are butter cookies with jam in the middle and hummus.
He likes to snuggle and his favorite place to munch on a freshly caught, crunchy cockroach is between me and Gary at 2 AM.
When I hunkered down to take a lovely photo of Beatrix (destined to be her last) I didn't know he was following me until I saw him pounce. At first I tried to rescue her but in the end, nature won out.
He doesn't even show remorse.
Her name was Beatrix. She spent a lot of time in the bathroom, then moved to the kitchen for awhile, reducing the moth population significantly. Then she decided to check out the dining room for a little action.
There she met her maker. A member of her own household. A sociopath who played with her a bit before he bit her beautifully formed head off and chowed down on her body like he hadn't eaten in a week.
That's right, we've got a cat.
The confession is mostly mine. In a moment of loneliness on Valentine's day, I adopted this little gray kitten who had been rescued by a policeman from a park. When he was brought to the vet's office his eyes were crusted shut. The vet nursed him back to health and I couldn't resist him when I saw him.
The kids have named him Rigby. I imagine that he subsisted on wetas and people's leftover takeaways from rubbish bins (like my lingo?), because he will eat anything at all if you're willing to share. His favorites are butter cookies with jam in the middle and hummus.
He likes to snuggle and his favorite place to munch on a freshly caught, crunchy cockroach is between me and Gary at 2 AM.
When I hunkered down to take a lovely photo of Beatrix (destined to be her last) I didn't know he was following me until I saw him pounce. At first I tried to rescue her but in the end, nature won out.
He doesn't even show remorse.
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