"Pa-pa-pa avocado. See, Mom, it starts with P, not with A," says the very sure-of-himself 4-year-old Ethan. "No, bud. Ah-ah-ah avocado. It starts with A," I say, trying to be as reasonable as possible. He insists, "No, my teacher says it starts with a P." He then folds his arms and glares at me. I watch him watch me from the rearview mirror. "Where did this kid come from?" I think. Figuring this is an argument I won't win, I drop the issue and move on to the next letter, but I'm still puzzled. P to A is a far stretch, even for a kid who can't say his S's and V's.

The next letter is Q. "Quilt," he says. I ask, "What about quiz?" He says, "Don't say it like that. Don't say, 'What about.' Just say it." I should hire him as a life coach. "OK, then, quiz. R next." "Ranch," he says. "We live on a ranch, huh, Mom?" "We sure do, bud." "Your turn, Mom." "Rodeo." "Ahh, Mom, that's what I was going to say." "But you already said ranch." "But I like rodeo better. You say ranch, and I say rodeo." "OK." "Rodeo." "Ranch."

"Now it's S," I say. "Mom, I know that, and I get to go first. Steers, like Cora's 4-H steers," he says, clearly proud of himself even though it sounds like he is saying tears, not steers. "Sandwich," I say. "That's kind of a dumb one," he says. "You should have said sheep. That would have been much better good." Yet again, he doesn't say sheep. He pushes his tongue against the inside of his mouth, trying to pronounce it correctly, but it sounds like hissing before pushing out "leap." I hope he outgrows this, but not too quickly.

The next letter is his favorite, and he has been waiting for it the entire alphabet. All in a rush, he gets out, "T is next. Tractor." He stretches out that last syllable until it sounds like track-toooouuuur. "I just love tractors so much," he finishes. How can anyone not love this kid? Knowing I need to stick to his farm theme or feel his wrath, I say turkey, which is sufficient. Now that we've reached the climax of the alphabet with T, our game peters out. He asks to listen to "bye bye, Miss American Pie" and waits eagerly for every time the song says “Chevy to the levy” because "They are better than Fords, right Mom?"

We drive the rest of the way to preschool with Don McLean in the background. Ethan is not too excited when we get there, but he perks up when he realizes he can prove to me how avocado starts with P. He drags me to his classroom. He points to the top of the wall, where the teacher has the alphabet displayed. On the P tile, next to a pumpkin, pig and a pizza is a pear. "See Mom, pa-pa-pa avocado."