The Story of the Pinchy-Rabbit

I recently found an article, written by one of my mom's cousins, on Facebook.  The whole thing is describing an episode that he witnessed between my sister and I when we were about three and four years old.  You should read his article here.  

Erin, Dad and I
I do not remember this happening, and neither does my sister.  It is the sort of thing that we would have done, though.  I don't think that Erin ever knew what I meant when I called her a "pinchy-rabbit,"  and she still can't tell you what it is.  I won't. 

I will, however, tell you some things about a pinchy-rabbit.  First of all, Erin was not the only one; everyone has either met a pinchy-rabbit, or has been one.  I'm even beginning to see some pinchy-rabbit tendencies in my older son.  And I must guiltily admit to waiting for Erin to have her own pinchy-rabbit. 

Josh ended his article with the thought that, whatever the pinchy-rabbit is, it must be bad.  I do feel obligated to qualify that.  How bad the pinchy-rabbit is really depends upon your point of view--or rather, your age.   I imagine if you are older than, oh say, twelve encountering a pinchy-rabbit is nothing more than annoying.  But for a three year old, a pinchy-rabbit is probably right up there with ginormous dogs and nightmares.  I know that those three were among the worst five things of my childhood (the other two being traffic and the babysitter). 

That's as much as I'm willing to divulge of the pinchy-rabbit right now, maybe I'll draw up some pictures later.  I do think that the original definition of "pinchy-rabbit" might evolve over the next few years; it's too cute to not use as a nick-name!

I'll have more stories and recipes for you later, now I have to go take care of my own pinchy-rabbits. Ciao!