After today's recital I helped do the last bit of tidying and packing up. The kids, full of reception cookie-and-punch sugar, had gone outside to burn off some energy, then packed their instruments into the van and hung out there waiting for me. When I was ready to drive home I got into the van where they were giggling.
"We've decided to communicate using only nouns," Erin informed me in a quiet aside.
The conversation went something like this.
"Home. Bread. Stomach. Hunger."
"Children. Nouns. Weirdness."
"Store. Milk. Buns. Sloppy Joes."
"Death? Daddy? Gun?"
(Yeah, the kids don't like our 85-lb. over-eager dog very much.)