Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Fath

I was busily typing on the computer when Gabriel and Markus came up running, one after the other, to my room. By the sound of it, they had another squabble.

“Mom, Markus called me fat,” Gabriel complained.

“No, I didn’t,” Markus was defensive.

Gabriel didn’t look like he was joking, but I almost laughed.

“You are not fat,” I brushed aside his moaning. Because if you were so, I’d be grossly obese. I continued working, but the two just wouldn’t leave me alone.

“Mom,” Gabriel went on. “He called me fat with an h. FATH! That means dumb.”

I paused for a moment and turned to Markus. “Markus…” I said, in a firm tone that says you-cannot-get-away-with-that.

Just then Gabriel broke into a naughty smile and said, “Mom, fath is not even a word.” Then he and Markus started laughing, and poking fun at me.

Grr! They got me again with some nonexistent word. Perhaps for the third or fourth time. Hey, you two, don't you take me for a fath!

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