On the way home from Cub Scouts the other night, Big Brother spontaneously blurted out:
"Dad-E, iceskating is a compound word."
"Yes it is, buddy."
"Baseball is a compound word, too."
"You got it!"
"And father."
"Huh?"
"Father."
"I know. Father is not a compound word."
"Sure it is. F-A-T ... H-E-R."
*Sigh* "Not quite, buddy."
"What about FATTER?" interjected Little Brother.
That's my boys. Almost 8 years of fatherhood, and the word "father" is synonymous with fat her.
Lovely. Just bloody lovely.
See you on FAT-HER-HOOD Friday,
Busy-Dad-E
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