The End of the Word as We Know It

At supper recently, 7-year-old Christian used used an impolite term to refer to his rear end. "Oh, Christian," I urged, "let's not call it that. It doesn't sound very nice."

"Well, then, what should I call it?" he replied. "My derriere?"

Joe laughed at this and said, "Sure, Christian, if you can spell it you can say it."

"OK," Christian said, squinting in concentration. "D-A-I-R-Y, space, A-I-R."

Joe and I immediately erupted in laughter, so Christian explained, "You know ... . Like, I went to the fair and got kicked in the dairy air."