HOLY CANNOLI

I love whimsical words. I naturally use them to pepper my speech to make it interesting. Again, this comes from Dad, who gave me a love of words.

Am I talking about the Italian pastry dessert, er, no, I have eaten cannoli, but I’m more a tiramisu girl – coffee, mascarpone – yum.

When I can’t really say ‘holy shit’ in public, even though it’s my number one go to exclamation, or ‘holy f***’, not so common, tend to use ‘shit’ way more. I can go Dad’s route – ‘holy moly’, but there’s something about ‘holy cannoli’. It’s light-hearted and doesn’t have the crassness of ‘sh**’ or ‘f***’.

‘Holy cannoli’, fits in well with my other frequent ‘go to’ words – ‘wow ‘or ‘oh my God’. It’s cute, quaint and playful and I love playful words. It makes what you’re saying sound more dramatic, and it lets everyone know something surprising has happened.

I can soothe people with my voice, but I can also shock them with my voice.

When Jackson was little, I’d read lots of books to him. 101 Dalmatians was the favourite by a country mile.

BUT, when it came to The Three Little Pigs, with a voice full of inflection, snarling my words and determined to create the best reading experience for Jackson, ‘holy cannoli’, I really stuffed up.

It was meant to be a simple bedtime nursery rhyme story, not a story creating a horror experience for Jackson and literally blow the brick house down.

The big bad wolf comes and says, ‘Little pig, little pig, let me come in.’ The little pig says, ‘Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin.’ So, the wolf says, ‘Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down.’

Jackson was so terrified, that he struggled to sleep for over 3 months. Every night, he checked under his bed for the big bad wolf and every night he insisted the big bad wolf was outside his bedroom window.

I had created a monster – me!

I did end up reading him The Three Little Pigs down the track, when he was a bit older, but I did it in a whimsical, airy-fairy, gentle, whispered lullaby way.

When Roxy, the beagle, escapes and runs, it’s ok, because when I use my loud voice, you can literally hear me to Timbuktu. When I use my loud voice, birds fly out of trees in fear, to get away from me.

The way I yell ‘Roxy’, it ain’t sugar and spice. It’s blood-curdling. Roxy, well, she stops rocketing up the road, freezes, sits, then starts running back home, without checking for traffic. She zooms up the driveway and pelts back into the house, petrified, because Mum has screamed the entire neighbourhood down.

Maybe next time she bolts, I could try them all – ‘holy sh**, holy f***, holy moly, wow, oh my God, tiramisu and holy cannoli’ and see what happens!

Does anyone else have whimsical words they love to use?