Four-letter words.

Yesterday, I was hauling Pete inside to eat when he screeched, "Fyeck!" which gave me pause. Had he just said what I thought he said?

"What was that, Pete?" I asked.

He looked at me, wide-eyed.

"Is that Dutch, Pete? What does that mean?"

"I not know that," he said. Uh, oh.

There was nothing more about it until bath time, when I asked the boys to get out of the tub. This time Carl was the offender, and there was no mistaking that word.

What do you do? I haven't discussed with their parents how we're to handle swearing, as it has never come up before. Besides, it's really pretty funny. So I threw out the standard, "That's never a nice word to say. If you use it again, you'll have to go to bed at 7:00 tomorrow." Of course, he said it again. And now I have to remind him of this word and the fact that he said it so he remembers why he's being dealt the 7:00 bedtime.

Pete also informed me that he knows the s-word, but he doesn't know what the s-word means.

This comes on the heel of their middle finger discovery, which serves them with endless delight -- and punishment.