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Posts tagged ‘bad word’

Don’t be a gecko

While flipping through TV stations, my husband found a listing for the movie, “We bought a zoo.”  As we have a five year old, we try to choose what is on the big screen very carefully.  I remembered the story line from the trailers and had always wanted to see it.  It seemed like a safe bet.  Our son was printing numbers, and playing with toys.  I didn’t expect him to really sit down and watch it, but I thought some parts might interest him. 

 

The movie did catch his interest, and it was reaching a pivotal point:  would they be approved by the USDA to reopen?  During this scene, this adorable little girl, close to my son’s age, informs the inspector that people call him a ….. (male body part, rhymes with sick). 

 

My husband and I looked up at each other and then to our son.  He was staring, fascinated, at the TV.  My husband buries his face in the computer, hiding behind the screen.  Thanks, Dear.  No white knight is coming to my rescue on this one.  Colin looks at me, with this little twinkle in his eye, and says, “What is a…. (see word reference above)? 

 

My brain was running a million miles an hour trying to dodge this one. 

 

“No, no, he said ‘gick’,” I reply, smiling, looking right in his eyes.  “What’s a ‘gick’?” asks my child.  “You know, it’s another word for gecko: the little lizards.” 

 

I pause, still looking him in the eye and smiling.  Wow, I am making this up as I go along, but so far so good, I think. 

 

“Why would you call somebody a lizard?” he asks, now looking a little confused.  I said, “It’s kinda like calling somebody a chicken.  It’s just calling somebody a name, which we shouldn’t do.  So we shouldn’t call people names.” 

 

“So, we shouldn’t say, ‘Don’t be a gick!’” he says, eyes gleaming at me.  He’s such a little booger.  He will use any excuse to use a bad word in such a context as to not get in trouble.   I wonder where he gets it – must be his father. 

 

I repeat that we shouldn’t name-call, and we continue watching the show.  Several minutes later, my husband re-emerges from behind the laptop, and looks at me with a look of incredulity and a bit of distain.  “Gecko?” he murmurs, one eyebrow cocked. 

 

I started giggling, then laughing, tears streaming down my eyes.  My son shushes me, giving me a very disapproving look.  I am apparently disrupting his movie-watching. 

 

We make it through another day of life, and I have a new phrase:  Don’t be a gecko. 

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