Today Tater and Little Man were playing in a huge pile of clean laundry. They were laughing and having fun.
Then I heard it. What did she say? No, surely not. Yep.
She was calling her little brother "P****."
"Come here P****."
"You're a little P****"
I composed myself and calmly asked, "Tater, what did you call your brother?"
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know, I just made it up."
"I see, but don't call him that anymore. It doesn't sound very nice."
I wonder if she heard that word on the playground this morning. Maybe she really did make it up. I am hoping the word doesn't pop up again at some inopportune time, like Sunday School.