In the summer of 1990, we lived in San Jose, California, a western coastal city in the San Francisco South Bay area. My daughter was a toddler, back then, and liked to dress up and walk around our fourplex in my heels, hat, and beads. I would place her sippy-cup on a low shelf, in the kitchen, so that she could hydrate herself whenever she needed to. As she was busily engaged in her make-believe world, she would pause by her shelf, announce confidently, "Firsty!" and then take a little sip of her well-loved apple juice from her sippy-cup. At seventeen months old, she could not pronounce the "th" sound that is so important in our English language. Thus, "thirsty" became "firsty."
By the next summer, we had moved to the South – specifically, to the state of Georgia in the southern region of the US — where thunderstorms were prevalent. These daily thunderstorms made every leaf of flora green and luscious, but the thunderstorms were so — well, thunderous! They boomed and roared and blared! Sometimes the apartment would shake, and bright flashes of lightning would streak across the dark sky. Then the bottom of clouds would rip open and heavy water would drop down in the form of huge, masculine raindrops.
I did not want little Emily to be frightened, so when the storm was just beginning to brew, I would dance around the living room, shouting, "It's thundering! It's thundering! Oh, what fun!" Our apartment was nearly empty of furniture, so there was plenty of space to leap and twirl about. Emily would bound and spring and dart back-and-forth, singing, "It's fundering! It's fundering! Oh, what fun!"
Of course, my daughter, eventually, learned how to pronounce “th” words… and you can, too!
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