H.D.

After arriving to Cheyenne, we had to register the kids in school which, of course, required us (me) to fill out innumerable forms. Honestly, I think the excessive paperwork is a surreptitious ploy by the public school system to get more people to home school their own children. Hannah was looking on as I doggedly filled out each slot of one of the pages, then asked why I had left the line for "nickname" blank. Grateful for a break, I explained she didn't have a nickname, really. I mean, unless you count "Choochie-face," which is what we called her through her toddler-hood. With only a soupçon of maliciousness, I asked if she would like me to put that as her official nickname, while my pen hovered over the blank. The unmitigated horror was clearly visible on her face; I actually saw her social demise pass right before her eyes. Since that was a no-go, we brainstormed over nicknames. Finally, I suggested HD, and she consented. To commemorate the birth of this moniker, I announced on Facebook, "Hannah wants to be known as HD...we can now expect her to have substantially higher resolution than the Analog Hannah of the past."

Since then, her Art teacher has started calling her High-Def in class, which is what I was going for when I suggested she use her initials as her nickname. Last week, she came home rather incensed that he has now taken to calling her Harley Davidson, which her dad and I think is a WAY more chill take on her initials. It will be years before she realizes how sweet she has it.

While on the topic of Choochie Girl: Being nine and a half has really increased her need to dispute any and all topics. I'm not going to go into details (mostly because I can't remember any), but it had gotten to the point that I was forced to insist she only answer her father "Yes, Sir" or I would be sure to terminate her debate with extreme prejudice.* Mostly she has improved...mostly. For example, today, on our way home from church, I stopped her cold from arguing with me on some unimportant topic. She groaned with the agony of it and admitted, "It pains me not to argue!"

I've just thought of another nickname for her, "Hazta Debate."

*According to Wiki: In military and other covert operations, terminate with extreme prejudice is a euphemism for execution.

English, revised

One of the bonuses of teaching my children to talk has been having a front row seat when they mangle the language. Am I the only parent who is completely enchanted with their original ways to say tired old words? I know it is my duty to gently correct these errors, but I truly dread the day when my kids no longer add their personal flair to the language and join the rest of us in the conventional (read "boring") way of expression.

Currently, we are graced with hearing Logan bless the shoulders each night it is his turn to pray for our troops' safe return. He stubbornly insists that skaBETTY is his favorite dinner and he'll sometimes even tell us of his might-nairs if he has had a particularly scary dream. We've recently been reading from the Book of Mormon of an evening, and sometimes, he'll need help finding his schrich-pers so he can read along with us.

I revel in the eccentricity of these errors and I'm almost certain that doesn't make me a bad person.