Dear Chet, please read the following out loud with your best authentic North Texas accent:

Chet, baby, come on over here to Mama. That's it, now sit down on the settee here beside me. That's right. Oh, you're lil' glasses are slipping down your nose agin. Push 'em back up, now. That's right. Now, Mama didn't raise too much of a fuss last July when you lit up that lil' rocket and burned the back forty, now did I? That's right. Now, as long as your lil' high-top sneakered feet are under my table, we won't have any more talk about how Mama should fix her grits, now will we? Good boy. Now, you just jump down here and run off and play with your rockets. Mama loves ya. An' be sure and come inside when I call ya for dinner, ya hear?