“Ooohhh…too. Much. Pizza,” Prairie mock-whined as she cuddled up next to me in bed.
“Oh?”
“I’m stuffed. Big lump of pizza in my tummy.”
“Ah. Yes.” I nodded. “Pizzalump. Kind of like a Heffalump, only more edible.”
Prairie giggled. “Heffalumps aren’t edible?”
“Nope.”
“Who says?”
“The Heffalumps, of course!”
“Of course!”
“Woozles might not agree, but then, you can’t take a Woozle’s word for it, now can you?”
By this point, we both had a serious case of the giggles, and conversation stopped for a few moments. Then Prairie mumbled something.
“What?”
“Woozles sound chewy.”
“Chewy?” I started laughing again.
“Well, they do. Say it: ‘_Wooooo_zles…'” And then she was giggling too hard to go on.
“I should make that the tagline for my site,” I laughed. “‘Woozles Sound Chewy.'” I mimed a baffled shrug. “See how long it takes for someone to e-mail me asking what that means. Then I’ll just e-mail back, ‘Well, they do. Say it!'”
And again with the laughing too hard to talk.
So — Woozles sound chewy, and now Prairie wants a Heffalump (rather than a Pizzalump) for dinner sometime next week.
Anyone have any recipes?
“Sad Cowboy Song (Live)” by Red Elvises from the album Your Favorite Band (1999, 6:24).