Sometimes Patrick does things with language that really should be corrected, but instead creep into the family's unique vernacular.
"Whoosh" for Gadget's Co Coaster, for instance, or the various alternate titles he used for his favorite episodes of Star Trek and Xena when he was little -- to the point that I had to make a chart for our dad for when Patrick visited him at work.
On our last night at the Magic Kingdom, we were waiting for our return time to Space Mountain -- which was basically, I think, a gift Fast Pass given to us by the cast member when I approached and asked which queue (standby or Fast Pass) was used for wheelchair access.
Patrick still needed to get his shirt from the Magic Kingdom, so after we rode the PeopleMover (for about the 5th time) and watched the Carousel of Progress again (boo for the "no photography at all" rule -- I get no flash pictures...but none at all...really?), we headed over to a gift shop in Tomorrowland to look for a shirt.
We ended up at the Merchant of Venus (har har har; get it?) and were perusing shirts. Unbeknownst to Patrick, one of my goals for this trip was to curb his "I must buy a shirt at each park, so I will buy the first shirt I see at each park" strategy. So far, it had worked well. He saw a couple of shirts on one side, but we perused the rest of them.
And then, he saw it.
"That's the bomb!" he said, taking the shirt down admiringly. Remember, Patrick likes his shirts loud; this one was deafening. He stared at it, and said, "That's not the bomb, that's the bombest!"
So, with grateful thanks to the Maid Service supervisor who reminded the hotel employees that they are supposed to check under beds for forgotten items, here is Patrick in his newly-arrived bombest shirt:
We bought the shirt and still had five minutes to kill, so we...wait for it...rode the PeopleMover again. "That's the bombest shirt!" Patrick kept saying, admiringly, pausing only to watch the model of Walt's original EPCOT.