Woot-beard and White Witches

The drink of choice for both of my children would be root beer when given a choice. Although Stephen has just now started to like any drink that is carbonated. Ansley has loved it for a long time. But of course, as I want their teeth to be healthy (and I don't want to fork over $500 at the pediatric dentist) I try to limit the amount of any soda.

Root beer is some pretty good stuff, I must admit. And I am sure I will also enjoy periodically over the rest of my lifetime - but I will not ever be able to drink a root beer without hearing The Boy call his rootbeer a "woot-beard". That's right - add a letter d to the end of it, change that R to a W, and you have got about the cutest way to pronounce rootbeer ever.

Soon enough that letter d will be gone. Soon enough he will pronounce things as they should be. What a sad thought. Sad and, not so sad I suppose. Isn't that the whole idea? To have kids, raise them and then watch them grow up? They don't tell you this part in the manual you get for raising kids when you leave the hospital. Wait - there was no manual. Which  must the reason I am trying to figure this whole thing out as it happens. The reason I am watching Stephen fight the White Witch from The Lion the Witch and the wardrobe and trying to memorize this moment.
It will be gone soon enough - these moments of great pretend. These moments of wootbeard, white witches and other magical things. So I am glad I am here now. And I am thankful for that.