Mulk?

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Where does BUB.1 get his accent from? “I’ll shyyyyyyyooow you” he says as he runs to show me his favourite car in a magazine.  Meanwhile BUB.2 demands some “mulk”. Mulk?

Then you hear it, the sound of your own voice. And your children’s voices are suddenly transformed from the warblings of angels to the cringe-inducing sound of your own terrible, awful, pathetic voice on a tape recorder.

BUB.2 has now started to screech Willy Wonka’s name repeatedly, like an old fishwife. The sound of my own voice rings in my ears.

Having children not only makes you look at yourself, it makes you listen to yourself too. You’ve been warned.

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