The S-word

"Daddy, do you know the S-word?"

My heart dropped into my stomach.  He's seven!  They can't be cursing already.  What happened to his wide-eyed wonder questions?  What's the deepest river in the world?  What's the world record for holding your breath?  Where do storks come from?

These I was used to.  These I could ask Siri.  (By the way, the answers are (1) the Congo, (2) 24 minutes and 37 seconds, and (3) no one knows.  Though I do have some doubts about the veracity of that second one.)

Of course, I know the S-word, I thought, but how do you???

"Um, I'm not sure, buddy.  Which S-word are you talking about?"

"I'm not supposed to say it."

"Is it.... stupid?" I ask, lowering my voice even though there is no one else around to hear.

"No, Daddy.  That's the S-T-word."

"Oh, well I'm not sure then, buddy."

"Well then Daddy, do you know the C, D, F, and S-H words?"

That's it, George Carlin Junior!  We're home-schooling you!

As we played a fun little father-son game of Seven Words You Can't Say in Reading Circle, I was able to deduce with 73% confidence that the C-word was crap and the D-word was dumb.  I could tangibly feel my systolic pressure drop below 280.

Then one night as Mrs. B and I were eating dinner and the kids were watching TV in another room, I heard Luke remark, "He just said a bad word!"

"What?" I yelled from the kitchen.

"They said a bad word on TV."

"Which one?"

"The S-H-word!"

Mrs. B and I pondered for a moment before agreeing it must be, "Shhh."  Turns out it was "shut up."  In my defense, and as I pointed out to Luke, that's actually two words.

So at this point, I'm ok.  I figure he's hearing words at school, most likely, or with his sports teams.  Possibly his teachers have pointed out that we shouldn't say some of these words.  He is aware of them, but he knows they are rude.

And then...

He hits me with the N-word.

We were playing football in the backyard, as we are wont to do every single day from August to February.  While attempting to catch him -- a task made more difficult by my increasingly flab-ridden torso -- I reached my arm out indiscriminately.  

And that's when he said it:

"Ow, Daddy! You hit me in my nuts."

.

.

.

To say that caught me off guard would be to say that Bruce Willis was slightly taken aback when he realized he had been dead the whole time in "The Sixth Sense."  (Spoiler alert.)

I know he didn't hear that from me!  But I do my best not to act shocked as I try to determine whether or not this is ok for him to say.  I mean, what else would he call them?   Privates?  The B-word (rhymes with falls)?  My danger?

The kid goes through active shooter drills at school.  Is saying nuts really the symbol of innocence lost?

Besides, when I was in second grade we played this stupid game called "national guard day" every Wednesday.  Guys would go around punching each other down there.  I hated it!  Dreaded it with every fiber of my being.  You walked around all day in the halls guarding your privates.  Yet we did it.  Every week.

So maybe nuts aren't so bad?  Are the prisons filled with people whose dads let them say nuts unabashedly when they were seven?  Surely not!  But what if it's a gateway word?  O, who can know, who can know!

As for the S-word, I believe I have managed to unravel that mystery as well.  

I was playing soccer with Luke and a friend of his, them against me.  After one of my kicks missed the goal, his friend yelled out, "You suck!"  Before I could say anything, Luke immediately responded , "Uh, we don't say that word."  I was so proud!

Now in his friend's defense, this kid is a year older.  Third-grade street cred being what it is, he's probably seen and heard some bad things.

After he yelled the insult a second time, Luke sternly admonished, "That is not a nice thing to say to my Dad!"  This time I backed him up. "Yeah, we don't say that word at our house, ok?"

Reflecting on the afternoon later I had my hardly-epiphanic moment:  Ah, suck!  That must be the S-word.

At least, I freakin' hope it is.

Apologies to any who may have been offended by the strong language of this post, most especially my mother.  Mom, if you're reading this, I'm sorry.  And I will fully expect to receive emancipation papers forthwith.

Oh, and happy national guard day to any who still commemorate the occasion and observe its senseless barbaric traditions.