The evolution of the English language when you are thirteen and have hormones popping like Orville Redenbacher's is enough to take down the most staunch professor, but frankly, leave my words alone! I need them, I depend on them, and taking them away from me is pure evil and reeks of selfishness.

Changing brain and I were having a conversation which went something like this:

Mom, what's this made of? as he picks up a bowl from our counter.

Wood.

Mom, that sounds so wrong!

What? Why? It's made of wood.

Ha, you said it again!

Wood? I don't understand.

Laughing hysterically: Don't you know what wood means?

OH MY GOD, it's a product from trees that we use to build and create things with. Of course I know what wood is.

Laughing harder if that's possible: Mom, it means *****!

No it doesn't - WOULD (I threw this in deliberately, enjoying my new power) you stop already!

Ha ha ha ha! Now he's bent over, holding his stomach together.

It reminded me of when we had to strike all words that rhymed with grass because they contained A*S*S which would leave Jakob gasping for breath.

One enjoyable facet of the new English: taking advantage of 13 year old boys who speak in acronyms about 50% of the time. After a bit of friendly father and son bantering, Paul called Satch an L. O. S. E. R. and Satch said What's that? Laugh Out.....?

Paul said No, it means you're a LOSER!