No Teeth But Plenty Of Bite

This story was told to me by my mother when I was older, but she still laughs about it today. 

When I was eighteen months old, I had my front four teeth removed due to an underlying condition. This occurs a few months later, after I have begun to learn how to speak. My grandma is watching me for the day, and one of our outings for the day is to take my uncle to work.

We are heading down the Trans-Canada Highway, which is always populated by semi-trucks. I am fascinated with these massive trucks and start pointing at them. Unfortunately, my uncle and grandma are having a conversation, and I am upset that they aren’t paying attention to me. After some time, this happens:

Me: “Gan’na!”

Grandma: “Hold on a second, [My Name]; your uncle and I are talking.”

Me: “But Gan’na!”

Grandma: *Sighs* “What is it?”

I point to a large car carrier that is carrying a bunch of pick-up trucks.

Me: “Look! F***s!”

My grandma gasps and my uncle bursts into laughter.

Grandma: “[My Name]! Where did you hear that word?!”

Me: “F***s?”

Grandma: “No! Stop saying that! You say it again and there will be no more Barney!”

Uncle: *Through tears and his cackles of laughter* “Mom, he’s saying, ‘Trucks’! He has no teeth, remember?!”

Grandma: “He shouldn’t be saying that dirty, filthy word!”

Uncle: “He can’t help it if he doesn’t have any teeth!”

Luckily, I went to speech therapy when I was old enough, and even though I still sometimes have a slight lisp and have to think about how to say a word before speaking, at least I don’t call trucks “F***s” anymore.