Alex coined a new word. A new word to him, anyway. Several times this week he’s been playing with his toys by himself, talking to them, making them talk, as pre-schoolers do. The first time I heard it, I looked up from what I was doing, raised an eyebrow, and continued to listen.
“Come on, all you fuckers!”
I chose to just ignore it. The second time, Cameron was in the vicinity. He did not ignore it.
“Mom! Did you hear what he said?! ALEX! You just said the f word!”
“Cameron,” I said, trying not to draw attention to it, “he doesn’t even know what the f word is.”
“But Cameron, I have to say it, that’s the name I call them,” Alex said innocently.
“Maybe you can make up another word for them,” I suggested. “That one sounds like a bad word.”
“But I like it.”
“I know, but you can think of another fun name.”
“Mmmm, how about you try again?”
“Sure, that I can live with.”
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2012