A while back, Yahoo #1 arrived home from school. He was in a playful mood. I asked how school was and he responded with, "Wonderful. Just wonderful."
"What was so wonderful about it?" I inquired with speculation, intrigue and wanton ears.
"We learned about alliterations today. Wanna hear one? Billions of bucks bought bitter butter."
In the which I dropped my jaw and nearly messed myself. My first born is echoing euphemisms with commencing consonants. Yahoo #1 is marshaling his message with parallel pronouncements!
I like alliterations. A lot. Actually scratch that. I love alliterations. One might say that my alliterations are obnoxiously overdone and that I've flooded my following with foolishness.
I dare you to find a post that doesn't have an alliteration. Most of 'em do. And when I'm perfectly proud of one of these alliterative achievements, I add the "alliteration" label to it. Wanna read some alliterations? Go to the rabidrunner.com and click "allterations" under "labels" on the left.
(Or you can click here.)
My first born has learned the art of alliterating and I dare say he's even on his way to liking it. Oh the joy! Yahoo #1 might as well be captain of the football team, a concert pianist, state cross country champ, a renowned heart surgeon and president of the United States all at once.
Oh the joy!
To top off the tantalizing triumph of his new phonetically fun phrasing, Yahoo #1 wasn't done making a splash with me. "Mom?" He says. "What is witty banter?"
Oh be still my heart.