A little Italian

When I was pregnant, I used to joke that I was carrying an Italian, or at least someone who had been Italian in a previous life.

There was one when I was barely showing, and all I could think of was a big bowl of spaghetti and meatballs.

Now my little boy loves pasta, especially when he's got a good appetite.

But here is the kicker. Yesterday, feeling tired, he told me: "Mommy, I want to go to bed-e'" with just the tiniest kind of Italian lilt to the end of that word.

My husband and I are probably at fault for this quirk. The little guy has not been pronouncing the final consonant of his words consistently (his name is usually Nah), enough to convince my in-laws that we need to take him to a speech therapist.

The jury is still out on whether he needs speech therapy, but My Darling RedHead and I have been overemphasizing that last consonant in an effort to get him started.
He went through a couple of days of saying "book-ah" and now he's saying "bed-e'".

I know, I know, it's not such a thrilling blog entry but we've been having a lazy week. :)