I accepted a bet from my son for “Dibs on the First Ripe Pear From Aldi,” depending which of us was correct on our pronunciation of plebeian. He Googled it on his phone and then roared his protest. But I knew I was right, because once, long ago, my mother laughed at me for mispronouncing it, and so I looked it up and found, unexpectedly, that I was right and she was wrong.
I never told her so.
Growing up, I never saw you laugh so hard as you laughed when I said words wrong. But no hard feelings: the first pear was delicious.