When Lulu was first learning to talk I thought it would be fun to teach her the wrong word for everything. For example, I would teach her that the word for chair was actually “shit.”
If that worked, I would teach her that the word for “please” was actually “Fuck you.”
I mean what’s the use of having a kid if you can’t have some fun with them?
I imagined her going to school on the first day. She would smile at her teacher, point at a chair and ask, “Is this my shit?”
The teacher would freak out.
The teacher would say, “What did you say, young lady?”
Lulu would ask in a louder voice, “Do you want me to sit in this shit?”
“What?” the teacher would gasp.
“This shit,” Emma would enunciate carefully. “Should I sit in the shit or not? Fuck you, answer me.”
The teacher would get really mad and send Lulu to the principal’s office.
And I would laugh my ass off. It would be like the world’s biggest, longest joke…
I didn’t do it, though, so don’t get mad at me.