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Suburban Shalom

seeking peace and purpose from my little neck of the suburbs

From the hills of Tennessee…

I’ve noticed lately that my children are sounding very much like Elly May Clampett. This would be fine if we were from the rural farmlands or mountains of Appalachia, but since we’re instead from the suburbs of the third largest city in the state of Tennessee, I was hoping for more of a charming Southern drawl. Here are some of the words that we’re struggling with right now:
my-say-elf 
 (as in… “I want to do it by my-say-elf!”)
back-erds 
 (as in… “Uh-oh! My shirt is on back-erds!)
hay-elp 
 (as in… “Mommy! I need you to hay-elp me!)
hair 
 (as in… “Come over hair.”)
bur-tending 
 (as in… “Look, Daddy. We’re bur-tending like we’re animals.)
skeered 
 (as in… “Daddy, I’m skeered of the dark.)
way-ell 
 (as in… “Way-ell, I just don’t know what to do.”)
my-un 
 (as in… “No, she can’t have it! It’s my-un!)
hit-ted 
 (as in… “Mommy, she hit-ted me with the Barbie!!”)
dare 
(as in… “Look! Dare’s a bird over dare!”)
And, in honor of fall, our current favorite is…
punkin 
 (as in… “Can I have some more punkin bread?)
pah-utch 
(as in… “I wanna’ go back to the punkin pah-utch.)

At this rate, I feel like we might be hearing things like “you’ns” and “yesterdee” pretty soon.

Heaven, hay-elp us. We’re working on it!

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