That's Trazy, Man.

Jenna has sported a very common learning-to-speak verbal quirk (I think it's a little over the top to call it a speech impediment) that has permeated the household: she doesn't say the letters c,k, or g. And now neither do we.
I can't put my fin-der, I mean finger, on when it exactly started happening, but Dan and I seem to be losing the ability to say those same letters, whether we're talking to Jenna or just to each other. It's a "when in Rome, do as the Romans do..." kind of thing. Dan really finds this speech pattern of hers to be quite adorable and has mentioned several times that he'll be sad when she drows, I mean grows up and just says g's and k's and c's like everyone else.
So in the meantime, we are doing what I'm fairly certain is the worst possible thing we can do: talk to her in the dialect that she uses with us and not modeling better speech patterns.
Just for the sake of posterity, these are some of the cutest and most common words she mangles:
crazy= trazy
Kiki the cat = Teetee the tat
Gammie = Dame-y (which also sounds like her Aunt Jaime's name)
Michaela = Mitay-la
Who stole the Cookie from the Cookie Jar?= Who stole the tootie from the tootie jar?
When she does something wrong= "Am I done-ah have tonse-twences?"
Net-lace (necklace), may-tup (makeup), tup-tate (cupcake), ta-wire (choir), "Tan I please have...?"... the list goes on and on.
She also had started ordering drinks/drints from Dan and I in what we call the James Bond Fashion: "I'd lite told water, in a dlass, with no ice."
Shaken, not stirred.

Baby Update: Not much cookin' in the baby department. I felt much better last week than I have in months and got up to about 85% functioning. I was actually able to make a homemade dinner last night AND ate some it! Victory is MINE!
I have also started a funny, intense craving for diet soda, which I could have easily up to this point of my life never drank again and not be too upset. But suddenly, ooohhh... it's all I want. I feel like a heroin addict, with some type of bizarre release coming over me as I take that first long, deep drink. I actually closed my eyes in pleasure one day last week as I drank it. Of course, I have done nothing but rag on Dan for the last 13 years about how his daily diet soda habit is "slowly rotting your gut away... it's poison!! POISON!" and now here I am arranging my errands so I can stop at a drive thru and score some.
Alas, I am limiting myself to only drinking it a few times a week, since the majority of ingredients are nothing close to what you'd want your fetus ingesting. Those What to Expect When You're Expecting Freakazoids would have a field day with me. (Yeah, it's an informative book and I have read it many, many times but mostly all it did was make me feel inadequate as a mom... but that's a whole other post.)
But, oh, the soda's so good. TRAZY good.