28. September 2005 · Comments Off on My Gwee · Categories: Memoir

Beautiful Wife did laundry yesterday and changed out the linens. Yeah, clean sheets…love that feeling. She’d also managed to gather up the afghan Gorgeous Daughter had crocheted for my birthday a couple of years ago, but it wasn’t on the bed, under the bed or anywhere around the bed, but I was ready to go to bed. The nights here have been wonderful for sleeping lately, down in the high 50s/low 60s and with the bedroom window open, all you need is the spread and an afghan. I put my slippers back on and headed back downstairs.

Me: “Honey, where’s my gwee?”

BW: “I’m sorry, it’s still in the wash with mine. The one you’re Mom made you is in the gwee box.”

Some of you are scratching your head and wondering if I had a spell check malfunction. Others have it figured out. Some of you suspect. It’s family speak.

Every family has some. Made up words for everyday things. “Gwee” was a Boyo invention from back before he could walk. He was exploring the floor and had tuckered himself out. He was about to drop off right there on the spot but he kept stretching and crying and muttering “Gwee-gwee-gwee-gwee.” I looked at him…I looked where he was looking…I saw his baby blanket and I got up and picked it up…”GWEE-GWEE-GWEEEEEE!” I held up his blanket and asked, “Gwee?” “GWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!” After I picked up the fillings he’d loosened with his primal, dog torturing shreek, I handed him his gwee and from that moment forward, every blanket, comforter, afghan, beach towel used as a blanket because we’re too lazy to go find a real one has been “gwee.” Always will be as far as we’re concerened.

Give us some of your family speak in the comments. You know you have some. Woobies? Binkies? Ca-caroos?

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