I was chatting with the daycare teacher at the edge of the playground. My son who was about 7 years old at the time was busy playing with friends at the far end and had not yet noticed that I was there to pick him up. We had been talking about the kids for a few minutes when we heard my son call out with excitement "Dad, I know the F word!"
I heard the teacher gasp and could see a sudden sense of panic on her face. I began to shout "We don't say that word! Don't say that word, don't say it!." My son didn't hear anything I yelled. He was too excited to tell me the news. He was running straight towards me with his fists clinched and his arms pumping like a sprinter's. All the way over he was announcing at the top of his lungs "I know the F word! I know what the F word is!" I kneeled down and spread my arms out to greet him while trying to keep him from blurting it out. He ran up and grabbed my arms rather than giving me a hug like he normally would. I was still pleading with him not to say it but he talked over me.
"Dad, the F word is Full. The F word is Full."
"Huh? That's not... uh, yeah, Full is an F word."
He must have sensed my confusion.
"You, know. In the car, there's that pointer thing that has an E and F. The F is for Full."
"Yes, you're right! Full is the F word."