While the term “blush” describes a group of boys (No lie), there is no gender-inclusive term for a group of children. As always, I aim to change the world, and this seems as good a windmill to start with as any.
It isn’t easy to just coin a term, at least for thoughtful people. Describing children is fraught with peril, as offspring tend to inspire either passionate goobering (See: “Greatest Love of All”) or passionate thumb biting (See: most of the Facebook comments written by my childless friends who have to deal with other people’s progeny.)
Gentle parents, especially those still in the pregnancy-only stage might recommend A Blessing of Children or An Anticipation of Children. The more “I’m-With-Stupid T-Shirt” parents among us might smart-assedly suggest a A Choke of Children or A Mudslide of Children.
I considered A Guffaw of Children.
A Heart- and Earful of Children
A Goldfish Crackers Sack of Children.
A Pillowfight of Children.
An Avalanche of Children.
An Epoxy of Children.
A Cancellation of Children.
A Gigglefit of Children.
Then I received what can only be considered divine whisper similar I’m sure to what Handel heard when inspired to compose the Messiah. Or perhaps it was a hallucination caused by the past-its-prime Salted Caramel coffee creamer I freebased this morning.
I owe this term to five years of 12-14 hour-a-day information verbal downloading by my children, 12 years of professional teaching, the rather surprising turn of events that has lead me to become some sort of neighborhood Sunny D/Totino’s Pizza Roll mom (Come on in, kids, and empty my fridge! I like grocery shopping every goddamned day!) and the young child who recently spent no less than 7 minutes explaining to me exactly why her favorite color is rainbow.
I submit to you what may be my one and only gift to humanity – A Monologue of Children.