The dreaded F-word.
My daughter, Jamie, was an only child until she was 8 1/2 years old, thereby missing all of the sister-sister or brother-sister interaction that occurs only in closer age siblings.
She did get to experience some lovely sister-brother interaction later on, especially while babysitting. But that’s another story for another time.
I’m not sure how old Jamie was, but we were still living at our last house (over 20 years ago) where Jamie was more apt to have playmates whose homes she could walk to safely down our dirt road. And so, on this particular day, she went down the road to play with two sisters, Melissa and Marcie. In age, I believe Jamie falls right between the two girls.
When Jamie returned home, she had something on her mind:
“Momma, Marcie called Melissa a Fartface. Is that the F-word?”
Well, I did everything I could not to laugh at what was quite a serious question. I must not have been ready to explain the f-word to my young daughter. And, besides, she was quite happy with my response:
“Yes, it is and I never want to hear you say it either!”
You know what? I can honestly say that I’ve never heard my daughter call anyone a Fartface!”