OF BREAD & BRING-EE

We’ve been rocking the word games lately. Last week, we were out to dinner and the waitress was taking our drink order and Miller waited her turn and then held out two fingers real close together and said, “I’ll have a little little water. In a kid’s cup, please?” just out of nowhere, all of a sudden ordering for herself.



We’re heading to Lubbock for a comic book convention this weekend and her repeatedly stated plans are to hang out with Pa, go to the bank and get some money, and then go pay for some red cowboy boots. She was on the phone to Oma yesteday explaining all this, but then when she got to the part about the boots, she said, “bread cowboy boots, Oma,” really putting the emphasis on the first word. Then looked at me with this wild grin. Back into the phone, “I said, bread cowboy boots,” then looked back at me again, just about to rupture from the suspense of whether or not Oma hadn’t noticed and was still going about her day, or, and this was the real good one right here, she had caught that slight addition and was even now squinting into the phone, wondering how in the world she was going to manage baking up a pair of bread cowboy boots.

Also yesterday at the park, while swinging, she abruptly started yelling, “Bring-ee!” and getting pretty tickled about it all. I asked her what bring-ee meant and she laughed even harder. “I don’t know! I made it up!” The next time I asked, she said, “It means,” reached down and smacked the bottom of her swing, while saying, with her voice all of a sudden pitched as low as she could go, “kinda like this,” then at the top of her lungs, leaned way way back, legs kicking up into the sky, “BRING-EEEEEEEE!”