I don't notice it, of course, but my mom does. We're visiting my parents in Texas for spring break, and a couple of days ago Isaac asked my mom, "MamaSue, may I have a bul?"
"A whut?"
"A bul."
"Whut are you talkin abowt?"
"You know. A bul, so I can pour my cereal in it and eat breakfast."
"Oh. Down here in Texas we call that a BAOWL."
"[raucous snickering]."
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