There’s a commercial on TV right now for pistachios, with a keyboard cat in a green sweater cracking open a nut with his paw. You may have seen it, you may not. You’re not missing much either way. The commercial itself isn’t really important, anyway, it just serves as the vehicle used to introduce the word ‘pistachios’ to my oldest.
Or, rather, mustachios.
“That cat’s cracking a walnut!”, Jedi remarked excitedly. The great thing about kids is that they’re amused by the littlest things.
“No, it’s a pistachio”, I corrected.
“Why is the cat cracking a mustachio?”, he asked, laughing.
I don’t know why the cat is cracking a mustachio, I had a brief inclination to reply, and I don’t really know why he has a pistachio, either. Instead, I gave a single half-hearted attempt at correcting his mispronounciation.
“Pistachio”, I repeated.
“Mustachio”, he replied in turn. Fair enough, then.
He’s never had many grammar issues, even as a younger tot he was straight forward with his words, so I welcome the rare misspeak. It reminds me that he’s still my little boy. Especially when the deviation couldn’t get much better.
Mustachio! Apparently, I’m amused by the littlest things, too.