Mom collected “-isms” as we grew up. When one of us used a word or phrase in an unusual or mispronounced way, it became part of the family’s lexicon.

There were Harry-isms, Dave-isms, etc. We’ll no doubt revisit this topic as my brothers and I dust off our memories from long ago, but for now here are some from Gary’s and my sons.

Uh-oh! Monsters!

Youngest son James never missed a chance to visit Grandma’s side of the farm (she was at the north end; we were at the south). Although Gary’s mom loved to pull her youngest grandchild up on her lap, she was even more pleased when he wiggled free and headed outdoors.

Despite the allure of tractors, trucks, moo cows, and puppy dogs, James headed straight for the chickens.

Those cluckers fascinated him. I guess you could say they were “free range,” so he never knew where and when one would show up.

But the barn. Oh, the barn was the best place to explore. With Daddy or Aunt Sharon in tow, James would enter the dark, cool barn with a level of caution usually absent in toddlers. Cows contentedly munched on hay, just as curious about the little red-haired boy who was just out of reach as he was about them.

And then, it happened. It was exactly what James was waiting to hear: Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Alarmed but not frightened, James called out to warn anyone within earshot:

Uh-oh! Monsters!

He was convinced a rooster’s crow was the sound of a barn monster. Lurking in amongst the cows and calves, was a very loud monster indeed.

We’d asked him later what he saw out in the barn. “Moo cows. And monster. Uh-oh! Monster!”

In honor of James & the Giant Monster, we added a “monsters lamp” to our home and found a “monsters” Beanie Baby for James. He introduced the two:

To this day, when Gary and I hear a rooster crow, we look at each other and grin: Uh-oh! Monsters!

Release the puh-pow!

Back when John was about three, a friend asked us to take care of his two ferrets while he was out of town for a week.

Tom was 10 or so at the time and agreed to feed and play with the critters.

What Tom didn’t count on was John’s delight in freeing the ferrets.

Or, as John called them, “Puh-pows.”

It took us a few minutes to figure out what John meant by puh-pow. (In a recent conversation, he guessed it was his way of saying “puppy,” adding another mondegreen to his list.)

Shortly after the ferrets arrived and were settled in, John came up to Gary and me and earnestly repeated, “Puh-pow! Puh-pow!” Gary took him by the hand and they headed back outdoors to visit the furry fellows.

Only … they weren’t there. Somehow, they’d escaped!

Gary hollered for Thomas and me to come out and join the search. (We live on 80 acres of fields and forest.)

Thomas rounded them up pretty quickly and returned them to their cage. We promised each other to double-check the latch on the cage door from now on, thinking we’d just missed it the first time.

As we turned to head back into the house, a little voice piped up:

Puh-pow! Puh-pow!

“Yes, honey, the puh-pows will be here for a week. We’ll come outside and play with the ferrets after lunch.”

Puh-pow!

“Oh, no!” As Gary turned to take John by the hand, he realized there’d been another escape. John clapped his hands in glee. Puh-pow!

Eventually, Tom rigged up a secondary “lock” for the ferrets’ cage that John’s little fingers couldn’t untie. The puh-pows enjoyed some scheduled time out in the yard each day and were returned safely to their owner at the end of the week.

Ga-gooook!

According to Google, GaGook is country featured in Twelfth Night. No, not the Shakespeare comedy by the same name, it’s a Korean webtoon from 2012.

But 25 years before this, Gagook was the name of Thomas’s toy hobby horse … er, puppy.

Growing up in the 1960s, we had two hobby horses. They got a lot of use. Although I don’t have photos of the originals (which are at one of my brothers’ homes, I believe), here are similar models:

Side note: Let it be said, the constant use of the word “vintage” in the online descriptions of these childhood toys is not a mood enhancer.

When it came time for our firstborn to saddle up and ride, we opted for a Fisher Price Puppy Dog toy (now also labeled “vintage” on Pinterest).

Tom loved that thing. He was only about a year old at the time, but got the hang of the toy really quickly.

Too quickly. And with too much speed.

“Ga-goooooook!” he’d chortle. It was sort of a battle cry.

Gary was stunned with how his little guy went flying on Gagook. And equally flabbergasted that the toddler toy was engineered with so little safety in mind. Gagook would tip over backwards (or forwards, for that matter) once Thomas got him up to speed.

Ga-gooooook!

Mommy and Daddy quickly realized we needed to safety spot Tom whenever he and Gagook went for a ride. Otherwise, the pup was safely tucked away on a high shelf.

Now that I’ve spent the afternoon thinking about -isms, I’ve remembered one from my childhood: Mom told me when I was a tot, I hadn’t quite learned the lyrics to Happy Birthday, so I improvised. On her birthday, I sang “Happy to you, Mommy cake!” before she blew out the candles. It stuck.

Remember all that flap about the copyright for the Happy Birthday song a decade or so ago? Perhaps I was just ahead of my time.

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