Word. Just Word.

We are having a bit of a kerfluffle around the Mansion concerning Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's use of the word redonkulous. The #1 son has decreed that I am never allowed to utter that word again. Which means that I try to sneak it into every conversation. I don't say it in front of normal people. Just in front of #1. If The Pony or Farmer H happen to overhear, so be it. They don't take issue.

To set up #1 for a little redonkulousfest, I went a couple of days without using the banned word. OK. So maybe it was more like five or six hours without using it. I was waiting for him to have a meltdown over some trivial incident. Then I was going to let it fly. It went a little something like this:

"You, sir, are careening toward the precipice that overlooks the abyss of redonkulousness!"

#1 picked up his new glasses on Saturday morning. He was carrying on about some issue when he climbed back into T-Hoe. It was not really the right time to spring my trap, but I have trouble keeping my own secrets. Alas, I let it slip that I was planning such an event, and he huffed and whined until I told him what it was. He looked straight ahead, and deadpanned, "You are not funny."

But the corners of his mouth were twitching.