Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Bless him....

So, as I begin this blog of southern things, I must start with the fact that I don't currently reside in the south. I lived 34 whole years of my life in Alabama ( of my total 35 years), until we moved last summer to the Bay Area/Silicon Valley area of San Francisco, CALIFORNIA. That's a long way from the deep south that has become who I am and how I talk.

I just talk "southern".

So far, in my year of living in the Bay Area, I have people comment on my accent daily. I really enjoy being the southern girl for sure (yes, I drive a Ford F150)-- but I've have a few people ask what country I am from. This really tickles me. The best compliment I've received so far? "Why do you talk like a cowboy?"

When talking to a friend back home about how fun it has become to be the one with the accent, his response was "you've ALWAYS been the one with the accent". So, imagine my surprise when I realized that my sweet, 7 year old son, has about completely lost his southern accent.

Ya'll. My sweet boy says "dog"- rhymes with "log". His whole life, me, his mama, has taught him to say "dawg". That's the way we say dog in the south; like the Georgia Bull dawgs--go dawgs--- not DOGS.

Being the awesome speech therapist that I once was, I immediately tried to do some dialect therapy to correct his "mistake". My husband was not amused.

I totally didn't see this coming. I just assumed that with my heavy accent, that my kids would keep it. So far, my daughter has continued to say some super-country, southern things and I might be a teensy bit proud of that. Although it might hurt my heart just a bit, I can deal with "dog", as long as he keeps his "ya'll"....and his "coke" for all things fizzy.

Yee haw.