Of glaciers and galaxies

It's safe to say I keep my vocabulary spiced and ready to go.

"That was as fast as a glacier," I say to one girl after her roundoff.

"What's a glacier?"

"It's a huge chunk of ice that moves about one inch every thousand years." I'm not sure if this is scientifically accurate, but her eyes widen. "Speed up your roundoff!"

Later I use the word "spacey," a normal term, and Colleen perks up. "What does that mean?" she asks as she flips her long ponytail over her shoulder.

"It means your head's in outer space," I say with hand gestures.

"Ohhh. I can see that!"

Quite honestly "spacey" is the perfect word for Colleen but I keep that to myself. She's seven. There's a chance she'll grow out of it. (Or not.)

And yesterday, while assisting Mariah with the Level 4 beam dismount, I explain that I'll only spot her if she does a decent handstand. "Otherwise it's too much yankage," I say, referring to when her feet don't get over her head and I have to pull her body from one side of the beam to the other. I proceed into an inspirational talk of kicking one's legs and attaining proper positions.

A pause.

"Yankage?" she says.