Wolfe’s Woofer: Cursing

“Are you taking Davin out for ice cream this week?’ Melody asked.
“I thought I would pick him up from school on Thursday,” I told her. “We’ll either go for ice cream or frozen yogurt, whichever he wants.”
“Good. I want you to talk to him for me.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“His teacher tells me that he has started cursing.”
“Hey! Don’t look at me,” I said. “I haven’t been teaching him. Boys pick that kind of thing up from their friends.”
“I just want to stop it before it gets worse.”
On Thursday Davin and I got frozen yogurt and went out on the deck at Fido’s to eat it.
“How is school going?” I asked, casually.
“It’s going great,” he said. “I got some new friends.”
“Are they older boys?” I asked, suspiciously.
“No. They’re mostly eight or nine like me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Grandpa,” he said. “Why are you asking?”
“Well, I heard you’ve been cursing,” I said. “Is that true?”
“No.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Who told you that?” he asked.
“A little bird told me.”
Davin said, “What the hell? I bet it was a damn seagull, wasn’t it?”

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