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It wasn’t the first time I’d heard my daughter explain to her brother something she’d read to herself.

“Listen to this, buddy…”

But it was the first time I’d heard the name Butch pronounced ‘buh…tch.’

At which time the two of them snickered, then sampled the name some more.

Buh…tch.  But…ch.   Buttch.

More hysterics.

I wiped my own eyes from the other room.  “His name is Butch,” I yelled into the mayhem.  But nobody listened.

All I heard was poor Buttch become a common noun.

“Please move your buttch,” my son hee-hawed, “so I can sit down.”


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