Imagine, if you are able: Scott comes home; Henry and I are listening to music, as is our way at times (those times being when we are not making Playdoh pancakes or weeping into our fists).
Scott: What are you listening to, sport?
Henry: It’s a song about fucking.
Scott looks at me.
Me: That’s not what he’s saying! He’s obviously saying something else!
Henry (delighted): It’s about fucking! FUCKING!
Me: I know he’s saying something else! I just can’t identify what it is!
I waited for him to lie his dinosaur on top of Spider-Man and say, “Like that! Fucking!” But fortunately for me and sadly for this blog, no.
Now before I endure another onslaught of scandalized emails: PEOPLE. He was not saying that. He speaks in the charming but often baffling language of toddler-ese, where f’s become s’s and “puppies” becomes something obscene. He was probably saying “It’s a song I enjoy very fucking much.” Like that! You see!