As a child, I had a propensity to mispronounce things. I had a decent vocabulary, and knew how to use words--just not how they were supposed to be pronounced. My parents had frequent and hearty laughs at my expense, which taught me, when in doubt, ask someone how to say the damned word.
A first blunder was "de-zaust." I couldn't say "exhaust." Apparently this was adorable. Later, that was replaced in the Hilarity Files by "Little Keezer's." Hey, pizza sounded good, and we were looking for a place to have dinner.
By far, however, the best of my blunders came at Raley's. I must have been nine or ten years old. Mom and I were walking through the bakery section, and I saw some gorgeous pies. I read the sign, and called out, "Hey, look, Mom: strawberry rub-bub pie!"
Mom lost it. She laughed so hard, she probably cried. I can't be sure if she cried, because I tend to block out painful memories.
The story was taken home and passed around, laughed over, and then, like a chain email, sent out in the universe. It reappears every once in a while, making my parents laugh. My weak defense is that, until that point, I had never even heard of a rhubarb, and I still maintain that someone misspelled the damned sign.