Anya ,'Get It Done'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Hil, you're right. Mom said, just repeat the world correctly and then leave it. The idea is that Annabel will pick up the correct pronounciation.
Mostly what she said, is don't worry about this too much, right now. A lot can happen in 6 months and Annabel is still young.
It's funny, Annabel didn't say her name until she got to a point where she could pronounce it correctly, but other kids tend to start with "A'bel" then work their way through "Abbabel" before getting to Annabel. The middle pronunciation led a lot of parents of two-year-olds to think the little girl in their kids' class with the thick brown hair was named Abigail.
And to break in with MEME news--
I'm starting to see definition in my arms! Not a lot, just a little when I do a bicep curl. But still change and exercises I'm doing are getting easier.
How to really screw with someone's perception
How long did it take you to figure out how they were doing it?
Hooray, Suzi!!
How to really screw with someone's perception
How long did it take you to figure out how they were doing it?
Once I saw that the camera was not being shown, I started looking for differences, and it's almost impossible for two humans to be perfectly in sync.
OTOH? I would have put thicker (if there was any) glass up between them and some "mirrored" items on the counter. mabe a sign stuck to the glass.
Still good for a laugh.
There are days I do not understand my daughter.
Tonight is the homecoming football game, so she is dragging her bf out. She is not a football fan. Also, it is raining. And yet, I just dropped them both off to the strains of some young girl murdering the National Anthem.
I'm starting to see definition in my arms! Not a lot, just a little when I do a bicep curl. But still change and exercises I'm doing are getting easier.
Go, you!
I, on the other hand, can lift adult human beings on a regular basis, and yet have no definition anywhere. I hate my body.
I went through speech therapy in junior high. I loved it. It was an hour I didn't have to be in class, and I got to talk about whatever I wanted to, for the most part (there were a few exercises we would do, but after a while, the therapist learned it was better to just let me talk and force me to stop if I started rattling things off incorrectly). She had this little clicky thing, and I had to click it each time I said a word with one of my problematic sounds (I was a lisper), showing that I knew it was in that word and that I tried to change it. I beat her previous records of most talkative client. I was always pretty pleased by that, which is funny looking back.
My SIL is pushing. Come on, baby!