As a transfer student from France, I was excited to tell my family, and especially my pet seal, Herman, what it was like meeting new American children who would help me perfect my English. I was having trouble dropping my French accent and my resulting speech was a bit strange to say the least. Only my family and Herman could understand the gibber jabber coming from my mouth, especially evident when I was excited or anxious. To my dismay, my verbal transformation was delayed a bit my first week of kindergarten.
The first day when I came home from school, rushing through the front door escorted by my teacher, I became frantic as I looked for my mother.
“Muvva, Muvva, wheh aw yeur?”
I looked upstairs, I looked downstairs, I could not find my mother.
“Huhrman, Huhrman, ‘ave yeur seen mah muvva?” Herman, nose in the air, turned and slithered into the bathtub.
The next day when I came home from school, rushing through the front door escorted by the school counselor, I became frantic as I looked for my father.
“Fadda, Fadda, wheh aw yeur?”
I looked upstairs, I looked downstairs, I could not find my father.
“Huhrman, Huhrman, ‘ave yeur seen mah fadda?” Herman, nose in the air, turned and slithered into the swimming pool.
The next day when I came home from school, rushing through the front door escorted by the school principal, I became frantic as I looked for my sister and brother.
“Sista, Brudda, wheh aw yeur?”
I looked upstairs, I looked downstairs, I could not find my siblings.
“Huhrman, Huhrman, ‘ave yeur seen mah sista o’ brudda?” Herman, nose in the air, turned and slithered into the backyard pond.
The next day when I came home from school, rushing through the front door escorted by the town police chief, to my surprise and delight, there stood my mother, my father, my sister, and my brother.
Herman had burped!