My husband and our son are in the car jujitsu-bound and Max is looking at this cd cover:  Simon & Garfunkel’s Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme.  So Max repeats it aloud but pronounces nothing right.

“Parzlay, saggay, rosenberry and theemay.”

So my husband corrects him.  Max remains fixated on the last one.

“That’s not how you spell time.”

“It’s not time like clock time,” my husband says.

“But if it’s pronounced time why don’t they spell it T-I-M-E?”

“Because it is the herb and that’s how it is spelled.”

“But how can TH sound like T and why use a Y and how come there’s an E at the end?”

My husband sighs.

“It’s just pronounced ‘time’.”

“I’m going to pronounce it ‘theemay’.”

“Then that would be wrong, Max.”

“But it doesn’t look like ‘time’.”

These conversations are routine with our son.  Teeth grindingly, perpetually till we are blue in the face routine.

Damn Simon & Garfunkel and their pretentious title.



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