On moving into a new home in Columbia, Missouri many years ago, I wandered into the back yard to survey the situation when I noticed a little girl, possibly three years old, near the south property line. As I was new in the neighborhood, I thought I should introduce myself and my family as her new neighbors.
I approached her and started our short conversation.
“Hi there,” I said.
“What’s your name?”
“Wanda,” she replied immediately.
“Hi Wanda” I said, “That’s a pretty name.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, “I have two older bwothers”.
“And what are their names?” I asked.
“Wicky and Wandy,” she replied immediately.
“Wicky and Wandy,” I wepeated exactly the same way Wanda had said them..
“Is that wight?” I asked again, being careful not to overdo what seemed clear to me.
“Yes,” she said.
“Those are vewy unusual names,” I added, not knowing what else to say.
For the life of me, I don’t wemember the west of that particular conversation. I was so perpwexed by those unusual names that I probably wandered off wondering exactly what Wanda’s name rewy was. For the moment I just left it at Wanda, maybe.
Maybe the weaders can figure it out for themselves.