Syllables change things.

The way you speak is important. How you say something matters. For instance:

Son: Hey Mommy, I was was watching this whore episode of that show and . . .

Me: (interrupting) What were you watching?!

— If you know my son, you know he has a moral compass bigger than than the Washington Monument, he detests anything indecent —

Son: I was watching this whore episode on . . .

Me: (again interrupting) Whore?

Son: Yeah. Whore. You know, it was supposed to be scary.

Me: Ahh, horror.

Son: That’s what I said.

Me: No. No, you didn’t. Horror has TWO syllables my son. TWO.

Son: (turning a shade of pink) Gimme a break.

Enunciate my friends . . . enunciate.

**A little background regarding my name – My children are adults, well, the youngest is 17, but close enough. My kids call me Mommy. All four of them. My oldest boys, autistic and awesome, have never wanted to call me anything else and their sister and brother hung on right along with them. So, just in case you ever wondered . . .

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