Mommy was busy hanging out the clothes. It was a warm spring day and the country wind felt so good after a bitterly cold winter. Her skirt was blowing in the wind, a soft blue cotton, one of her favorite “everyday” dresses.
She couldn’t believe it was 1960. She had gladly moved to the country when her husband was transferred last fall. That is where she had grown up. She could hear the children playing down the hill. Their giggling was music to her ears. Even work seemed like fun here on the farm. There was no time for boredom. The day was filled with cooking, cleaning, working with the children, doing the laundry.
“Mommy!” a shrill voice echoed up the hill.
Mommy turned and ran down the hill where her four year old son sat in the muddy grass, half laughing, half crying.
“What in the world happened?” Mommy asked the little boy.
“I was running down the hill and fell on my ass!” he giggled.
“Jimmy!” Mommy scolded, you know better than to talk like that!”
“Johnny said it the other day.” The child said as he stood up and tried to brush off the dirt. “He said his sister had a big ass, and then he laughed.”
“Do you know what that means?” Mommy said.
Johnny patted his bottom and said that was what it meant.” He smiled.
“Well. Let’s don’t say that again, it isn’t a nice word.” Mommy smiled as she hugged the little boy.
“Mommy, I don’t think Johnny’s sister has a big ass.” He said as he looked up innocently as his mother began to hang clothes on the line again.
“Boys,” sighed mommy, “ There is just no hope. Even from the little ones.”
She shook her golden locks and went back to hanging the clothes. She knew that the more she said, the more enticing the “bad word” would become.