I’ll always remember the first time my youngest son decided to shake social convention to the very core. We were at the dinner table, trying to persuade him to stay on his seat, when he suddenly stood up and announced the following:
I’m going to do a POO on the TOILET from my BOTTOM!
I do apologise for the crudeness, but those were his very words.
Obviously this bombshell woke us from our bourgeois complacency. Not just one, but three rude words in one sentence – how could we maintain the façade of civility now? Indeed, how could one ever conceive of such pointless traditions as “mealtimes” and “rules” ever again? My son was grinning, satisfied with his work, while the rest of us sought to reconstruct some kind of “meaning” from the remnants of family life as we knew it.
Or rather, that’s what my son wanted to happen. The trouble…
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