Betty Duffy

(Amateur)

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

I'm a fart-bookinator by nature, but...

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I took my oldest to “Shoe Sensation” yesterday, the only shoe store in town to replace his holy high tops (holy as in dog-chewed and rotten, not venerable) before his first Cross Country practice. The kid goes through shoes very quickly, the hightops only six months old and I hated paying thirty bucks for shoes for him when I know if I wait long enough something will turn up at Goodwill.

But we didn’t have the luxury of waiting for a bargain this time and I bought the shoes, which he didn’t particularly like because they didn’t light up or have Velcro straps, and he went to practice to run, and the boy can run; light on his feet, long stride, and scrawny because he has so much energy and there are not enough calories in the day to feed it.

His brothers were jealous of his shoes. Everybody wants new shoes, not second-hand or hand-me-down rejects. Everyone wants full-price, new smelling shoes. They want to go to Shoe Sensation, and it comes out of the four-year-old’s mouth like this: “When can I go to Shoezination?”

These boys are sort of word-smithy. When they want to make a semi-truck honk his horn, it’s not enough for them to start jerking their forearms up and down like a piston out the window in the universal signal for “Honk your horn!” They have to “Honketize” it. This afternoon, one of the boys had a pretty thick book, which, when he flipped through the pages really fast made a conspicuous sound, and was henceforth named the “fart-bookinator.”

All these –ators and –izers sound so threatening, rhyming as they do with words like “detonator” and “Vaporize.” And now “Shoezination”—I like it, as a term for what they put their shoes through in an average day, so that they end up looking like this:



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On words, I realized this morning that there is an entire vocabulary that I have acquired since I began blogging, words like doubtless, disconsolate and luddite, words I never use in my every day speech because they sit on the tongue like a bad cold, all those Ds and Ls that somehow look very commanding when they are written out. "Of course, I'm a luddite by nature, but..." --no I am not a luddite by nature. I didn't even know what a luddite was until I started reading blogs, where everyone is a "luddite by nature, but..."

6 comments:

Tracy @Magnolia Cul-de-Sac said...

I feel compelled to share my kids new words. 1)citronize: to completely soak/ drench someone with your water gun 2)insometer: the tiniest measurement that is even measureable. One son made these up a few years ago in the heat of discussions and these two words are a part of our family lexicon. Feel free to use as needed ;) I will be using fart-bookinator for sure. (man-my verification word is glomment-isn't that awesome!?)

Marie said...

I did a search of my own blog, no "disconsolate", "doubtless" was in quoting "The Raven", and "luddite" was quoting in admiration "Merry's Cloister". And no fart-bookinator at all. I'd better get moving, I'm feeling like a real poser now. . . .

Peter and Nancy said...

Your "luddite" observation reminded me of being in college, when far too many of my papers sported the same words. Good thing they were written for different professors . . . And it also reminded me of reading Parents magazine (back in the 19 months of time when I only had one child) -- their writers overused the word "stow" to the point of nausea. (As in "stow spare pacifiers in empty Kleenex boxes," etc.) :o)
Nancy

mrsdarwin said...

Nancy, I think that must be because the writers of Parents magazine don't have enough children between them to create a new vocabulary.

Wow, those shoes... reminds me of my own childhood, and the beat-up sneakers we used to wear. My girls live in sandals, which can get pretty grody, but not as grody as a boy's shoes do.

BettyDuffy said...

I might have to add "proclivity" to my overused words list. It's been on the tip of my keyboard all month long.

Mrs. D, I finally had to break down and buy some faux-crocs for the boys this summer, because they kept putting their sweaty bare feet into their tennis shoes. It worked for the summer...

lauren said...

great line: "sit on the tongue like a bad cold"

your kids sound like great fun!