I shouted to my 2nd grade son as I walked out the door the other day, “I’m taking the trash down the hall! I’ll be right back!”
“Can I C-U-M?” he yelled back.
I did a double take, my eyes probably widening like a 1970s cartoon cat. “Can you what?”
“Can I C-U-M?” he spelled out again.
“Can you what!?” I asked again, my brain working overtime thinking that maybe all of the parental controls on every device had not been set to stun.
“Can I C-U-M? With you?”
“Oh! Can you COME? With me! That’s C-O-M-E.”
Apparently our home is experiencing the dreaded summer slip in school skills. Thank god it’s that one and not one that involves lube.