When, around a french fry, I scolded Small Fry (terrible manners, I know) for not eating but instead trying to see what Large Fry (who was done with her dinner) was doing, she said this:
Mommy, why did you talk like a boy?Oh.
"What do you mean, why did I talk like a boy?"
"Ida know." (Yes, the mysterious Family Circus character lives here, too.)
I can only surmise that my growl around the french fry held a deeper timbre than normal.
Get used to it, kiddo. I can go halfway down the bass clef without flinching.