The "G" Word

Many years ago when the missionary was just a little tyke, maybe kindergarten or first grade (I know, I should have written it down when it happened. Maybe he was like, 14 or something as well as I remember things!) I picked him up from school one day.

He was noticeably upset.

I decided to be a mature mama and wait to see if he would share his problem with me.
I drove off.
30 seconds later all my maturity drove off too. (He was my first child, after all!)

I demanded (and I'm afraid that's all too true, in fact, I think I literally commanded him to tell me his problems. I had a lot of mothering learning to do. I still have a lot of mothering learning to do.)

In a tremulous voice, he told me that someone at school used the "G" word.
Said with appropriate tones saved for the very naughtiest of deeds.

The "G" word? My not so quick and commanding mothering mind searched for the "G" word. Was this some new word that I didn't know? I finally had my aha! moment and in my most mature mothering voice (it came back after being driven off) I started to explain how not all children have learned that we don't take the Lord's name in vain.

"Not that word, MOM!" he groaned.

Oh. Mature mother slipped away again momentarily. What to do? What other "G" words are there? What are they teaching my child at this school that I pay my taxes for? Who is my precious firstborn cavorting with at this heathen institution?

"Well, umm, which "G" word did this child say?"

No immediate answer from the back. I could see his thoughts...mom asking me to say a bad word???

then, quietly, hesitantly, I hear him say

"Jerk!"

I had to cover my mouth in a pretend fit of coughing to hide the uncontrollable laughter gurgling up within me. Between sputters and coughs, I finally summoned up enough composure to say one of my wisest, most mature mother comments ever.

"Oh my!"

I never had the heart to tell the missionary that the "G" word isn't really a "G" word after all, but a "J" word.