The Art of Distraction…

So my 12 year old son asked me today, out of the blue, what a certain rather rude word meant.

After spluttering out my tea and drawing breath, I asked in an unappealing ludicrous high voice where he had heard such vulgarity – a ploy on my behalf to stall for time.

“The school playground,” came the reply.

He knew he was onto something as he eyed me suspiciously and asked again somewhat more forcefully.

I did what all good, mature, sensible Mums around the globe would do… I faked a coughing fit, switched the TV to an appealing cartoon whilst thrusting a handful of sweets and chocolate to him in the ultimate art of distraction and avoidance.

Yep, I did.

I am not yet ready to impart the true meaning of such words and I am pretty sure many of you will be nodding in both pride and solidarity this very minute at my rather juvenile, but necessary, way of dealing with this.

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