My lisp
If you’ve never met me in person, you probably don’t know that I have a little speech impediment. It’s just at tiny little lisp, but it makes me crazy. The letter “s” is hard for me, but not as difficult as the sound you make when you pronounce “ch.” I dread saying the word “church” out loud.
If you can imagine what Drew Barrymore looks and sounds like, you’ve pretty much got an idea of my lisp. It’s not always noticeable, but becomes particularly pronounced when I’m drunk or extremely tired.
Last week, Signe and I went to the grocery store. It was her first trip; she was very excited about it. Anyway, while we were waiting in line at the deli counter, a woman approached us and asked “What do you have in here?” as she peered into Signe’s carseat.
I said, “This is my baby girl.”
“What’s her name?” she inquired.
“Signe,” I replied.
“Thigne?” she repeated.
“No, no. Sssigne. S-I-G-N-E.”
She gave me a weird look and walked away. I guess the new-parent sleep deprivation has amped up the lisp.