Butt-head

"Re-phrase!"
Not yelled, but with the inflection of voice to let you know she was disappointed. I can hear my mother right now commenting on the title of this insert. Sorry Mom!

Growing up I can remember the first time I swore. I was in the backyard by the fence. I was fuming mad at someone or something. Michael and Christy were there, probably walking home after school. Very low and under my breath so only I could hear, I called someone an 'A--'. They both heard me. Christy was in such shock that she ran in to tell Mom. Micheal just smiled at me, thinking the whole thing so hilarious. I was mad, ashamed, and afraid. I didn't know what the consequence of swearing might be. It was just something we didn't do. We got our mouths washed out for saying 'But....Mom!', 'butt' being the word not allowed. We were to use bottom or back-side. Mom would squeeze a heaping line of soap onto her finger then rub it into your teeth and gums. I hated the look of disappointment on my Mother's face more than the taste of Ivory dish soap.

After that I strictly stayed away from swear words, but I didn't see what was so wrong with butt.

Jeremey was taught sign language by his Mother. She knew the basic words, maybe a 100 word vocabulary. Anything else was spelled out. I had learned the alphabet in scouts.

I loved to stump Jeremey. I would make the sign for 'Sign' and then spell a word. If he knew the actual sign for the word he would show it to me. "Sign T-R-E-E." He put his elbow in the palm of his opposite hand, like the trunk of the tree. He then waved the fingers of his tree trunk hand. Easy. Too Easy. "Sign G-L-A-S-S-E-S." He pretended to have a glass of water in his hand and made a drinking motion. He then verbally said "or...", and putting his hands up to his eyes like binoculars, made a second sign for eye-glasses. He was a smart kid. I thought I was smarter.

"Sign B-U-T-T-H-E-A-D." He looked at me confused. So, I pointed to my rear-end and then to my forehead. I mouthed the words as I pointed. He laughed. He conceded. He did not know the sign. He could see the excitement in my smile. He knew how much I enjoyed making up our special sign language, known only to us.

I experimented with the sign for 'B'. It was the starting letter of the forbidden word. A 'B' on the forehead looked retarded. (Ironically, according to Jeremey, the universal sign for retard, bumping a limp hand on your chest, is really the sign for faggot, homosexual.) So I settled on a 'B' under the chin. Butt-head.

Jeremey came on a family camping trip recently. I called him a butt-head. He remembered and laughed. He made the sign back at me and I laughed.