I’ve mentioned previously that we invent words in our house. I’ve been doing it since…well…forever. The most famous word I’ve ever invented is, “nervousing.”

If you’re wondering, it’s an adjective. A person is nervous. But a thing (or event) is nervousing. (So the next time someone around you says “nervousing,” and then asks rhetorically, “Is that a word?” you can respond, with confidence, “Yes, it is. Because Elizabeth said so.”

As they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Therefore, my kids invent words as well. Without meaning to, of course. That’s what the English language does to us. Some words are just hard to pronounce. So they become other words. And then, when said often enough, those “other” words actually begin to sound normal.

As we packed for a recent trip, all 574 bags lining the entryway, Henry approached me looking as frightened as a lone ant who’d just realized he’d entered an elephant sanctuary.

“MOM! I CANNOT FIND MY SOUP CASE!” he shouted.

“Of course you can’t,” I sarcastically responded, “because there’s no such thing.”

“What?” he asked, still clearly despondent and, frankly, beginning to panic a little.

“Henry,” advised Jack, “Your shoe case is RIGHT THERE.”

“I’m not looking for my shoe case; I’m looking for my SOUP CASE!”

“It’s a SHOE CASE!”

“No it’s not; it’s a SOUP CASE!”

The verbal arguing then ceased as I saw, out of the corner of my right eye, two 8-year-old boys fall to the ground, one on top of the other. All over whether it’s a soup case or shoe case.

I simply rolled my eyes and waltzed to my bedroom to pack my own soup case. Or shoe case. Either way, this trip is feeling more nervousing by the second.