This morning I read a funny post by 40 is the new 13, a fellow blogger, on how children make crazy assumptions based on their own brand of logic, such as dogs are boys and cats are girls.

It sparked a memory for me. It wasn’t of an assumption one of my kids made, but a memory of what my son said one day when he was in grade two. I think it would be considered a malapropism.

Above is a pic I took of my boy back in the day, waiting for the school bus on his first day of kindergarten. When he got to second grade, his teacher, Mrs. Snow, was a kind and lovely young woman, and all the children adored her.

One day, when my little boy was nearing the end of that school year, he got off the bus and came home with an interesting piece of news. My friend and I were chatting over coffee when he entered the kitchen. He dropped his book bag and announced,

“Guess what? Mrs. Snow isn’t going to be a grade two teacher anymore.”

“No?” I asked, curious. “Is she giving up teaching already?” It seemed odd because she was nowhere near the age of retirement. “Oh, she’s going to teach a different grade, is she?”

“No,” he said. “She’s going to be a prostitute teacher.”

I nearly choked on my coffee, while my friend tried in vain to suppress her laughter.

Now the first thing I did was gently correct him. “You must mean substitute teacher, honey.”

The next thing I thought was, where did he hear that word? It wasn’t a word that was bandied about in our household. It wasn’t like he was living in a bordello, or that we let him watch a steady stream of  TV shows like Hill Street Blues or Spencer for Hire. And I sure as heck couldn’t imagine it as a topic of conversation among him and the other kids around his age. How did this word get into his vocabulary?

 

To this day, the answer remains a mystery.

Another one I liked was when my niece asked for a “girl-cheese” sandwich. Even when her mother corrected her, she continued to say it.

“It’s my cheese sandwich. And I’m a girl, right?”

Did you have any “verbal typos” to share from your childhood, or from one of your own kids?

(Of course, you don’t need to be a kid to say the darndest thing. The other day I called a take-out restaurant and asked if they had any “pressure-treated” chicken. I’m still shaking my head over that one. 😉 )

More fun reading:
Dogs are boys, Cats are girls