The Worst Word

“Mommy, there was something I saw on the bathroom wall today at school that I need to tell you about,” Punky informed me yesterday.

“What did you see, Punky?” I asked with concern.

“Somebody wrote ‘You go…'” She paused, dropping her voice to a whisper, “S-H-I-T.”

“Oh no,” I said. “That’s bad. That’s really bad.”

“I know it is,” she said. “I’m going to ask the teacher if I can take a red marker in there tomorrow and cross it out.”

“But how did you know that was a bad word?” I asked her.

“Because it sounded very bad when I said it to myself,” she said. “And then Amy told me later that it was an awful word. The WORST word.”

“WHAT word?” five-year-old Bruiser shouted from across the room. “WHAT word is the worst word?!”

“Nothing, Bruiser,” Punky said dismissively. This, of course, convinced Bruiser that he needed to hear this word IMMEDIATELY.

“WHAT WORD WAS IT?!” he demanded loudly.

“Punky saw a bad word written in the bathroom,” I told him. “It was so bad, I can’t even say it.”

“I think I know what word it was,” Bruiser said. He hopped down from his chair at the kitchen table and came over to me. “I hafta say it in your ear, it’s so bad,” he told me with great solemnity. Oh brother, I thought, bracing myself. What on earth was I about to hear?

“Is it…” Bruiser stopped for a moment and cupped his hands around my ear. “Poo poo dunderhead?” he whispered. I gasped, trying to cover a giggle, then took Bruiser’s hands and looked him in the eye.

“Yes, Bruiser,” I said. “Yes. It was poo poo dunderhead. And you must never, ever say that again. It’s very, very bad.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I knowed it.”

I just want to ask you, people. What is this world coming to, when we have FIVE YEAR OLDS using the PPD-word?

I. Just. Can’t.