words, words, words

After a chaotic pot luck at Madge's school, Coco fell asleep early. (So did I, but Madge was kind enough to wake me up and remind me that I had limericks to write.)
While I was "working on the limericks," which involves a lot of random procrastinary web-surfing, Madge was looking up a word in her Children's Dictionary, a word that had no chance of being there.
"R-E, R-E..."
"What are you looking for?"
"Creepuscular."
"Crepuscular?"
"Uh-huh. What does it mean?"
Now, I happen to know the Thelonious Monk song, "Crepuscule With Nellie," so I said, "It means 'of the evening.'" Where does she get words like this?
"'Of the evening'?"
"Yes, 'crepuscule' means 'evening-time' or 'dusk' or something like that, so 'crepuscular' means 'happening at that time.'"
"Oh. 'cause it says here that the rabbit is crepuscular."
"Yeah, I guess it means that they like evening-time rather than..."
and at that time she blanked out.
But still.

Then, later, as I was actually thinking of rhymes, she sat at the table, copying out definitions from her dictionary, each entry in a new color. She's up to "abolition the act of getting rid of."

Today, she's being a "regular" kid again, watching a Disney cartoon and arguing with her brother.

Phew.