Spelling Lesson

Once upon a time there was a girl. 
A girl on the verge of adolescence, who knew a few things about the world,
 but not enough for any of it to make sense. 
She knew long-legged white birds did NOT bring babies. 
She knew babies grew in their mothers' tummies. 
What she didn't know was how babies got there, 
or the words that mean how they got there.

The girl did know there were words that only adults could use. 
She learned early on saying fart would get her the stink-eye, 
saying damn would get her an hour pulling weeds in the front yard, 
and screaming B-Day, B-Day, B-Day out by the pool within earshot of her father 
would get her sent to her room. 
(In her defense, the girl claimed no knowledge of French bathroom equipment, 
seriously, what 10 year old does?
 and has no recollection of why she was shouting the "birthday"word to hell and back.)

One day, as the girl's father stood at the kitchen counter preparing his evening cocktail, 
mostly gin splashed with just a hint of vermouth, 
topped off with tiny onions, 
the girl ran into the house with a joke to tell.  
She knew how much her father liked a good joke.

"What starts with "F" and ends in "UCK?" 
the girl asked her father hoping he'd have to think about this.

"Fink" said her father, choking a little on his martini, but otherwise not missing a beat.
"Funk," he continued, turning the girl's unorthodox joke into a spelling lesson.

"Flapjack."

"How about fork?" 

 "Firetruck" said the disappointed girl as she left the room.

_ _ _ _ _ _


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