Okay, now that my disclaimer is out there, here is where the real post starts:
I suppose one of the things that causes the in-laws in our family of Kenites the most eye-rolling is the way we say words in weird ways around here.
This often happens at the table. We say things like "I'll take the VANilla eye creams" sounding like we want some sort of balm for the headlights on our van when all we really wish is for someone to pass the vanilla ice cream as opposed to passing us the Cookies 'n Cream flavor.
Or we might mention something about having "some of that snake, too" which everyone knows means the family member addressed may leave the box of crackers and the package of cheese slices out on the counter as snack options for other family members to partake of, and in no way refers to sharing reptile appetizers all around.
We have various ways of weirding our words. Often it involves changing the vowel sounds - flattening the curve of the breve to a macron, as it were, over the vowels in a word, or the other way around. That's how snack becomes snake, and reach can be pronounced retch. (Gross, I know!)
Sometimes it's spoonerizing a phrase (or is that roonerspizing?) such as calling a bunny rabbit a runny babbit. Or when you want to go take a shower, it's just as easy to tell someone "I'm gonna go shake a tower."
Other times, the words we use sound similar to the words we wish to say, but they actually add a bit more meaning, such as how you feel about the texture of certain foods. Saying squish for squash is a classic example in this category.
Occasionally, a certain term will come into our family's use because of a mistake someone made with a word, and then that misused word becomes the norm. An example of this is when we call lunch, lancha, referring back to a time when we were in Guatemala on a family trip. A Spanish fellow wanted us to buy tickets for a ride in his boat (lancha), and one of our family members thought the guy was talking about lunch, so he replied, "No thanks, I just ate."
Sometimes we think the accent of someone is intriguing or endearing, and so we copy their way of saying words once in awhile. In this regard, ketchup may get pronounced as ketchoop, cereal gets said sir-yull rather than seer-ee-ull and a wolf becomes a woof.
Why do we do this? For one thing, we can't help it. I think this word-wackying, so to speak, is hereditary. Our children probably picked it up from Ken and me and before that, the two of us probably learned the art from our families of origin. I know I inherited the gene from my dad as much as any of my relatives. He's famous for word-varying, especially with names. Among his grandchildren for instance, Ricky became Rickles and then Wrinkles, and Heidi was referred to as Heidi-go-squeaky.
I wasn't surprised when my children began showing signs of word-changing capability among themselves because pronunciation-altering was common among me and my sibs as I was growing up, too. Again, phrase enhancement seemed to concentrate in the kitchen. I remember that for us girls, wipe the table became wip the tabloid. Wipe the highchair morphed into whip the hitcher. Such craziness!
Why did we do it? For one thing, it added interest and pizzazz to ordinary objects and tasks. For another, we were learning skills to hone over the years and pass on to the next generation - no matter where you are, no matter what the amount of potential boredom around you, no matter how much you lack entertainment equipment, you can always use your brain to play games. You will never run out of options with words.
But now, I'm wondering if we were/are just weird. And if so, are we alone in our quirkiness. Recently Kerra asked if we are the only family to say words wrong and I join her in the questioning.
Are we?
