Enchiladas With Plaff

I am indescribably exhausted. I was hoping for a second trimester boost, but recently I've just felt like a zombie walking around. I try to exercise to get some energy (so glad I can return to the gym now), I eat reasonably well, I get a reasonable amount of sleep . . . but wow, I feel tired just typing. What have I added to my schedule? Well, the gym, as mentioned, and I now teach dance lessons to little girls twice a week. Just twice a week, shouldn't be making an impact.

So exactly how tired am I? Last night I climbed in bed (not too late, either), and Josh made some crazy sound in his sleep. The thought that came to my mind was, "That child sounds like an enchilada." What?! Yet that was my first thought, one that didn't seem strange until this morning.

This thought of mine reminds me of my dear son Joshua, who is constantly making up words whenever he doesn't have one. Here are a few he's come up with recently:

-Josh was playing in his room and Gary asked him what he was doing. "Playing with the duckgums," was Josh's reply. (They were Triominoes.)
-He is constantly drawing something he calls "penshuns." No, he's never heard us talking about "pensions," as far as he knows he made that up. He draws penshuns for everyone. "Mom, I found Noah's penshun on the floor!" he'll say.
-We were getting shelves built in our house (hooray for that, more later), and there were little scraps of wood all over. Josh picked some up and proclaimed he was playing with fees.
- At dinner Gary asked me what recipe I used. Josh said, "I have a recipe. It has sugar and plaff."

I know there's more that I'm forgetting, like I said, he does this often. The crazy thing is, he remembers the words he made up. A couple of days later, he cleaned up the duckgums, and called them the same thing. Similar story with the other words. Funny boy. As for Noah, he's getting a lot of attention by sweetly saying, "Hi, hi," to everyone he sees. Aaaah. Writing happy things just gave me an energy boost. Maybe I have the strength to go buy more plaff . . .