Quirky Cash often has trouble letting go of the day.... sometimes I lie down with him at night while he tells me all about mosquito spray trucks, the White House, or the purpose of basements. It's informative, to say the least.
On Monday night I discovered that all of his preschool literacy work is somewhat effective. I had been rubbing his feet and he'd been quiet for about 4-5 minutes so I was hoping he was finally relaxing- maybe even drifting off. Suddenly he pulled himself up on his elbow and reported his thoughts.
C: "You know, there's this kid named Frank."
C: "You know- at camp. I don't like the name Frank."
Me: "To tell you the truth, I don't like it much either."
C: "Why not?"
Me: "I don't know. I just don't like the way it sounds."
C: "Me too. It sounds like FUCK. Frank Fuck. Frank Fuck. F-f-f-f-....r-r-r-r........k-k-k. Do you hear it???"
Me: "Please don't use that word anywhere but here. "
C: "I know, I know..."