We’re in L.A., visiting Nana and PopPop, a.k.a. my mom and dad. Mom has just finished her rigorous morning workout and is getting dressed so we can take Jonah to the park. The boy and I are ready to go. We’re hanging out with her in her room while she is putting on her shoes. Suddenly she gets a stitch in her side that must feel like having a heart attack because her body torques in half with the pain and she yells with all the gusto of a hard-working sailor: F********ck!!!!!
And guess who thinks that is the greatest word he’s ever heard?
F*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, he shouts gaily.
Um, thanks mom?
This morning, he’s toddling around the house, chanting quietly to himself… f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck.
Oh dear.
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