Where do words come from? Like who decided that a bed should be called a bed. It could have been called a snoozemeister. But no, somewhere in history, someone decided to call it a bed.
I always wanted to invent a word. Something that desperately needed a name but didn’t yet have one. And then, about five or six years ago, when I was having a conversation with one of my kids, it hit me. They were describing something that, to my knowledge, didn’t yet have a name.
“Dad, my hiney doesn’t feel good.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t know. It’s wet and itchy.”
“Well…” I needed a word, one that could adequately encompass that feeling we’ve all experienced. “Hmm… we call that… squenchy.”
“Yea. You got a squenchy butt.”
It wasn’t until recently I realized my kids had no idea that wasn’t a real word.
“Dad, I was at camp today and one of my friends told me her butt was itching. I asked her if it was squenchy. She’d never heard that word before in her life. Can you believe that?”
“Honey, you’re 11. You need to know. Squenchy isn’t a real word. Only our family knows what that word means.”
“Yea. Like blatch.”
We made that word up at the dinner table one night. It’s when two bodily functions occur simultaneously.
Nothing would make me prouder than to open up Websters and see:
Squenchy: squench – ee; adj.; when your butt is moist and itchy often due to insufficient wiping. Contributed by: Danny Tanner
Oh, I long for the day.