For a while now I have recognized that someone who hears my husband and I talking to each other in a grocery store might be slightly confused, and, in fact, will probably find us somewhat odd. A note we received from my sister, Lauren, solidified that what I thought was only a slightly odd thing about us has now escalated into a much bigger level of strange. Allow me to enlighten you, dear readers. This is how my sister's note to us began:
Thanks so much for your thoughtful gift.
She then goes on to very sweetly thank us for the graduation gift we sent her way and closes with . . .
To me, her salutation seems perfectly normal. To you, a feeling of befuddled puzzlement has probably come over you.
You may be feeling the same thing that my mom did when she recently visited. After a few days, she asked me, "Why do you all call each other dishes?"
Answer? I don't know why.
We just. Do.
Chad and I call one another "Bebe Dish," which I know is not your average term of endearment. It doesn't sound very romantic, and its origins stem from the documentary The March of the Penguins and a scripture in The Book of Mormon that describes a sailing vessel as "tight, like unto a dish." (It's a long story. Don't ask.)
"Bebe Dish" has evolved into a slew of other terms that mean nothing to the outside world, but do mean a great deal indeed to the Reese clan.
For example, it is now also acceptable to say "Bebe Fish Dish" due to a hasty text message in which Chad forgot to change the letter "f" to a "d." In fact, my homemade Valentine's Day card for Chad this year had a construction paper goldfish leaping from a purple dish, with the words "Bebe Fish Dish" announcing that the card was his. (I can't find it anywhere, or I would post a picture.)
Similarly, while a "Bebe Dish" is a term meant to address the one you have pledged to love for all eternity, a "Dish" can be anyone, or anything, doing something cute, or whom you love.
For example, on a spring evening, if I happen to drive up my in-laws driveway to find them romantically sitting together on their porch swing, I might exclaim, "Look at those cute, little Dishes!" A translation would be, "How cute that my in-laws have been married for 30 years and still sit together like crushing teenagers!"
Or, if I see Lauren, who I love to death, coming out of her house to meet me, I might say, "Hey there, little Dish!" A translation of this would be, "Hey, you're cool, I'm happy to see you, and I'm glad we're friends!"
What if we happen across a bunch of baby deer, frolicking in a meadow? Why, the remark, "Look at all the little dishes!" might be in order.
What I love about my family is the fact that our random dialect has leaked into our everyday language. I love how silly and fun we are. We are a family of nicknames. From Bear, to Duddins, to Puddins, to Booba, to Geeze, to Juuuuuuuuuu, to adding "wick" after everyone's name (due to the fact that my husband's first name really IS Chadwick . . . I'm not joking), unique and strange terminology is nothing new. A lot of families would probably look at a couple calling each other "Bebe Dish" and wish they didn't have the same last name. Ours has embraced us.
I know you are now shaking your head, wondering how you can possibly be friends with someone who is so random, and I don't blame you. But, try saying "Bebe Dish" aloud a few times, and I promise, you can't help but smile.