Family Lexicon

My running log of words and expressions that our family has contributed to the English Language

Art contributed by author-illustrator, Jane Whelen Banks.  Click here to learn more about Banks, and her Loveable Liam series.

Appleccino (n.)  When we got a juicer, my son re-branded fresh-squeezed apple juice with a frothy top.  Starbucks, take note — we got there first!  

Attickle Attackle (n.) Sleeping in on Saturday morning is for wimps.

Brattitude (n.) With the teen years ’round the corner, I suspect this word is our future!.

Catchronise (n.) Catching someone in the act of being patronising, e.g., my son catchronised my daughter using a patronising tone.

Change of Screen (n.)  What happens when I yank my iPad away from kids, and they go load up a DVD.

ddhug-copy-2 Double-Decker Hug (n.)  When toddler and big bro both hug Dad at once.  (Variant: Triple decker hug, when Mum joins in).

Extramation Mark (n.) My high-octane son’s punctuater of choice.

Fri-did. (v., colloquial)  Shorthand for ‘did it on Friday’. e.g., ‘Don’t worry about taking the rubbish out this weekend. I Fri-did it.’  Likewise, Mondid, Tuesday, etc. Present tense:  Fri-do, e.g., ‘If you Fri-do your homework, you’ll have more time to play on the weekend.’

Grizzerable.(adj.) A teething week word. See also, Poolympics.

He-liocentrism (n.) The son-centered universe we inhabit during school holidays. (variation: she-liocentrism.  My toddler daughter’s conviction that everyone in our family loves playing the match-a-cupcake boardgame as much as she does.)

Huggle. (n. & v.) When neither a hug nor a cuddle is enough.

HummusApian. (n.) A primate with a fondness for Middle Eastern dips.  Contributed by my son, age 9.



I-dea. (abstract n.)  My idea. Yours is a You-dea. e.g. “My I-dea is to go to the cinema and your You-dea is to go for a swim.  Let’s do both!”

Incr-edible. (adj.) Mummy’s chocolate cupcakes with decorate-it-yourself frosting, hundreds and thousands and gold stars. Unless she forgets the sugar, in which case, delete the “cr”.

Kid-tastrophe. (n. adj: kid-tastrophic) The reason dinner was two hours late. Again (okay, always).

Kiss-chievous.  (adj.)  Kissably mischievous or Mischievously Kissable.  The reason our toddler gets away with murder.

Lead-her-ship. (n.): The art of getting three kids off to school on time with ballet kit, show-and-tell prop, and science project respectively, and remembering to sign up for Bonfire and Christmas Bazaar duty on your way out.

Leo Lie-In. (n.)  When Daddy (the king of the beasts) sleeps in past 8 on Sunday.  Contrib from DD (age 3).

Malingering. (v.. fem.) When a mother-in-law outstays her welcome. (Masculine form: pa-lingering).

Maritalepathy. (n.) When a wife can guess her husband’s Microsoft Account password, thereby pre-empting the need.  to bother him at work.

Massacre-pedicure. (n.)  When I clip the kids’ toe- and fingernails after Sunday baths, I quip that I’m giving them manicure-pedicures.  “More like a massacre-pedicure,” my son quips back. He’s not a big fan.

Momelette. (n) An egg dish on the fly. Make mine with mushrooms and a side of toast.

Mom-nesia. (n.) I used to know what this word means, but I forgot.

Momnipotence. (n.) Superhuman ability to repair broken biscuits.

Momniscience. (n.) And to insta-locate errant Thomas the Tank Engine puzzle pieces and Lego camper van accessories.t.

. (n.) Psychological disorder where your toddler devours the ice cream and chocolate sauce from the poire belle Helene while you nibble at the pear, and instead of complaining, you snap a photo of her adorable choco-grin.

Parmes-on/Parmes-off. (n.) Two pasta options, depending on whether or not you have a taste for Italian cheese. My son likes pasta with parmes-on, and my daughter prefers hers with parmes-off.

Poolympics. (n.) During teething week, my daughter wins a gold.

Scranwich. (n.) Scrunched up sandwich – My toddler’s special du jour.  Other variants:  Jamwich. (n.) PB&J, but skip the PB and double the J; Granwich. (n.)  A sandwich produced by Nanna; and GranJamwich. (n.) A hybrid of the prior two. Jamie Oliver has nothing on this.

Somethink. (n.) A tickle-icious new idea. e.g., ‘I just had a somethink!!’ (Inspired by my son’s mis-spelling of ‘something’.)

Somnorexia. (n.) Routinely performing the family/job juggling act on less sleep than you had during your law school finals.

Smokarettes. (n.)  Noxious, addictive carcinogens.  I don’t think my daughter knows exactly what they are, but she’s pretty sure they’re bad.

Tickle-icious. (adj.) My giggly toddler on a sunny Saturday morning.

Timetable Tetris. (n.)  A game my husband and  I play when our precarious week-day childcare arrangements fall through. (Guest contribution from dad).momorexia

Van-Isla milk. (n.)  A cup of milk with a teaspoon of vanilla paste stirred in, accessorised with a pink straw. My daughter, Isla’s fav.

Watch-and-do. (n.) A skill you have to watch modelled before you jump in and give it a go – i..e, an exercise in impulse control.  E.g, “Cracking an egg is a watch-and-do.” (Otherwise you watch the egg slither to the floor and do a major cleanup.)

Writer-in-resistence. (n.) My son trying to dodge putting pen to paper.  When he’s particularly terse, writer-in-reticence also applies.

Did you enjoy these illutrations?  Click here to learn more about author-illustrator, Jane Whelen Banks, and her Loveable Liam series.


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