I have a feeling my "Gabbycisms" posts are going to become like Jon Carroll's infamous cat columns, albeit not as charming or well-written. Those of you who like to read cutesy-wootsy stories about other people's children and the oh-so-funny (in the totally unbiased opinion of their mothers) little things they say, read on.
If not, tune in another time and maybe there'll be something here of interest to you.
A few weeks ago, Dylan (who has now acquired the nickname "Dill Pickle") caught some sort of a bug and spiked a fever in the middle of the night, because it is apparently against the law for children to spike fevers during daylight hours. Atomic and I must have been discussing it in somewhat concerned tones in front of Gabby, because the next evening before bed she announced, "Mommy, I'm sick. I think I have a beaver."
Ahem. (Oh, try try try not to bust out laughing, no, don't look at Atomic, you'll lose it, c'mon now, stop that)
"Oh, really, honey? You feel sick?"
"Yeah. I have a little beaver."
Aaaaaand give up all hope, bust out laughing and then spend several minutes trying to convince a skeptical preschooler that you are taking her concerns seriously.
On our road trip to Ashland last weekend, Gabby asked what the tall metal towers with wires were.
"Those are towers to hold the power lines, sweetie."
"Oooh. I want to see the Power Lions."
"Um, me too!"
"Mommy, is Grandpa Grandma Birdie's daddy?"
"No, Grandpa is Grandma Birdie's husband."
"Yes, the same way that daddy is mommy's husband."
"Mommy? Mickey Mouse is Minnie Mouse's husband!"