If you guys don’t shaddup and go to sleep, I’m gonna fling a muskallonge muskellunge at you
I yelled that out to the four gigglers who wouldn’t shaddup at 11:30 or whenever.
We were up at Fin Family Moominbeach and the G4 gals that belong directly to me (or to my bro’) were all there and the GG was not and I think the oldest of those G4 gals was about 13 so we were just on the cusp of you-know-what.
Anyway. Everybody in the back half of the upstairs at The Commander’s cabin was talking and giggling up a storm. I was in the front half and I was trying to go to sleep. But I couldn’t because of all the giggling, et al. So finally, I yelled, “If you guys don’t shaddup and go to sleep, I’m gonna fling a muskellunge at you!”
Silence.
For a long split second.
Then.
MUSKELLUNGE?
Then.
LAUGHTER!!! What did she say? What is a muskellunge? MORE LAUGHTER!
Then.
A moment of silence of my own.
What did I say? Is “muskellunge” a real word? Is there a fish with that name? How did my brain think that one up? And, now that I have created that huge uproar of laughter, how will I *ever* get them (and me) to go to sleep?
So. Muskallonge. Or Muskellunge. You guys, there are about 50 brazillion versions of the word for the fish I spell (in my brain) “muskellunge”. Which is, in fact, an acceptable spelling.
The kids did go to sleep eventually. Time marches on and the cusp of you-know-what happened. Nowadays, I am *pretty* good at sleeping no matter what is going on, except for a few little moom-freak-out moments. It helps that I can hear The Indefatigable as soon as it turns onto the Landfill street a few blocks away. When my beach urchins are even home and driving it, that is…