My Son Called Me A Whore

Yes.

It’s true.

A few months ago, my then-3 ½-year-old son called me a whore.

Well, sort of.

No, we weren’t on some godawful tabloid-y talk show like Maury or some equally horrible reality show like “Toddlers and Tiaras.” (“Toddlers and Tantrums” is more like it. Now THAT they could film at my house for sure.) And this wasn’t even an insult hurled mid-meltdown or hissed through gritted teeth during a timeout.

In fact, it probably wasn’t even intentional.

Probably.

Here’s what happened:

Matthew had become occasionally interested in drawing things other than scribbles. He moved into straight lines and circles, then decided he wanted to try writing letters. My husband and I were a bit wary of this. Matthew is, yes, of course, a genius and FAR advanced for his age in all areas—much like your kid, I’m sure. (*ahem*) But he also has a very low tolerance for frustration, and writing letters seemed like an activity RICH with potential frustrations. So we started slow. We taught him ‘O,’ which he pretty much already knew, then ‘M,’ because it’s the first letter of his name. Over a few days we taught him just a few more letters, mostly ones with straight lines.

One day, he came to me with a piece of paper and an insanely proud grin. “Mommy! I wrote something for you!” he exclaimed, as he handed me his masterpiece. Here’s what he gave me:

I oohed and aahed and tried to hide the fact that I was crying just a little bit. My son wrote a word! And not only that, he wrote “MOM!” Together we found some tape and hung the paper up on the kitchen wall where everyone could see it. I went back to trolling facebook, er, researching recipes online, and he went back to the playroom for more writing.

A few minutes later he returned. Same triumphant grin, another piece of paper. “Mommy!” he shouted. “I wrote you another word!” I looked down eagerly. What lovely sentimental message would my son bestow upon me this time? Here it is:

After my initial moment of shock, I oohed and aahed (though without the tears), then I tentatively asked, “Um, Matthew? What made you decide to write this word?”

“Mommy,” he said, “It says ‘ho.’” (That’s what his voice said. His face added, “DUH.”)

“I see that,” I said. “Why ‘ho?’”

“Mommy!’ (another “DUH” look) “That’s what Santa says!”

[Did I mention this happened around Christmas? Kind of a key detail in retrospect, I suppose.]

Before I could respond, he handed me the tape. “Hang it up! Hang it up!” he begged. How could I say no? So, Matthew’s second official written word joined his first in the place of honor on our kitchen wall, where everyone could see it.

. . .

And now, to apologize for using the word “whore” in this post’s title, I give you Matthew’s latest masterpiece.

Hubby and I secretly call it "Mutant Bird" because of the googly eyes.

What’s the latest cute thing your child genius has said to you?