You know what’s hilarious? Overhearing a first-grader reading an Anne Taintor calendar out loud.

Slowly and painfully he read from the October page, “There’s a very fine line between medicated and over-medicated. Hey Mommy, what does ‘medicated’ mean?”

I just laughed and hurried him out the door, feeling pretty proud of my 6-year-old who over the past few months has started to REALLY read. That feeling of pride continued until the next evening, when I caught him in our bedroom trying to sound out the second word on a greeting card my friend Kelli sent almost 2 years ago.

I turned the corner and saw him studying it closely, mumbling to himself “You’re … f … ”

I quickly redirected him and shoved the card deep under a stack of papers, and once he was out of sight I stood still for awhile and let the waves of mom fail wash over me. I am well aware that there are many things worse that hearing your child trying to sound out the F-word, but I can’t think of them right now … unless it’s the time last week when Robbie and I were chatting with Maverick after the other kids were in bed, and we were making up rhymes.

Maverick was silly and tired, and I was just about to suggest it was time for bed when the following came out of his mouth, and I quote: “You don’t have a wiener, Mommy. You have a pagina. Starts with a ‘P’ and ends with a ‘gina.’ Do you have the Great Wall of China in there? How does it fit?”

Robbie turned his head away, his body shaking with silent laughter, as I sat frozen and speechless.

That.

THAT is worse than hearing him try to sound out the F-word.