My son corrected my English in front of the cashier

Dear Delyara, At the grocery store today, I asked the cashier where I could find “washing powder,” and she did not understand me. My son, who is eleven, rolled his eyes and said, “She means laundry detergent.” The cashier laughed. My son laughed too. I laughed because that is what immigrants learn to do when embarrassment arrives publicly: join it before it can hurt you alone. In the car, he apologized, but then said I should try harder to sound American because people understand him just fine. He was born here. His tongue has never had to cross a border. I wanted to tell him that I had been an accountant before we came, that I gave presentations to rooms full of people, that my voice once made sense everywhere it entered. Instead, I drove home and asked about his science test. Tonight, I practiced the word detergent while folding his clothes. He came into the laundry room, heard me, and quietly said, “Mom, I’m sorry again.” This time I did not laugh. I told him my accent is not a mistake he needs to repair. He looked ashamed, and I hated that too. I am trying to raise a child who belongs here without teaching him to be embarrassed by the person who brought him.