Kids are great at aural typos. Growing up in the Bronx, my friend Richard spent years thinking that an outrageously expensive item cost “a nominal egg.” (Say it out loud with a Bronx accent: you'll get it.) Emily once declared that her sister's "smelly button" was peeking out from under the edge of her shirt. For her part, on confronting a big splat of mashed potatoes on her plate, Kate declared with a sigh of despair that it was simply "too bunch," a pretty efficient hybrid of the concepts "too much" and a "whole bunch." I can't remember Mathias being prone to this, though. I guess growing up Third Child in a household with the "lose your breath, lose your turn" rule fully in force has a way of reinforcing the value of just pointing to what you want.
Just to be clear, kids don't have the market cornered on this behavior. I spent an hour one Sunday morning in profound confusion over the Reformed Presbyterian Church’s apparent endorsement of the practice of “exclusive sodomy.” Turns out they meant singing only psalms in corporate worship, a practice known as “exclusive psalmody.” Made for an interesting discussion group after the service, though.
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