One day, Flea is going to ask me when she first sat up, when she first crawled, when she cut her first tooth. And, friends? I am going to lie.
Because the truth is, I can't really remember and I definitely never really got around to filling in that red book.
I do remember that she did all those things some time during her first year, but I was too tired to notice the date, I just remember she pretty much did everything around the time I was told to expect by "What To Expect: The First Year".
But I think I'm going to remember Flea's first profanity with a bit more clarity.
Last Friday, I'd brought Flea home from school and she was playing with some Playmobil figures at her playtable, while I sat at the dining table with my laptop. I was messing around on Twitter and listening to her imaginary game with half an ear. "Now this one's called Tom, and this one's called John," she said to herself, as she does.
Then she said something I wasn't expecting.
"And this one's called F*cker."
What? I froze, thinking I must have misheard that. Oh no. I didn't mishear.
"Come on F*cker!" said Tom the Playmobil man. "Where are you F*cker, keep up!"
I literally did not know what to do. Two thoughts occured to me: first, she plainly didn't know what the word meant, because she thought it was just another name. Second, she was pronouncing it with a definite Northern 'u' sound, so she didn't hear it from me. Ha! Absolved of responsibility.
In the end, like the coward I am, I just ignored it and the game soon moved on. But oh, please Flea, don't play that game with Grandma, she'll never let me hear the end of it.
