Last night I was watching Warriors basketball as my imaginary second eldest daughter, charming pretty intelligent but mischievous Ingrid, played with some blocks nearby. She was talking to herself, as she often does. During the commercial break, I turned my attention to what she was saying and caught her using a bad word: "bulwark." That's almost a gurp. Didn't get it from me. I said: "Hey!" She pretended not to hear me so I picked her up and spun her around, saying, "did I just hear you use a bad word? huh? huh?" I rubbed my stubbly face into her neck, making this munching noise I started employing after I became a father. She laughed her delightful laugh, pushing my face away. I landed her gently on the floor and said: "But, seriously, don't use that word." She asked why. I said: "It's a bad word." She asked why. I said: "Because I say so." She asked why. I said: "Hmmmm, good question. Do you know what the word 'fugly' means, perchance?" She said no. The game was back on and I returned to my seat. She crawled into my lap and asked repeatedly what "fugly" means. Looking around and above her, I told her to ask her mom. She pouted and went limp for a while. Then she slid off and returned to her blocks. During the next commercial break, I opened the dictionary to search for a good synonym. I thought: Wall. Aegis. Barrier. Fortification. Warriors D. But was I missing another? I forced myself to look up the offensive word, in sound and look if not meaning. As I approached the entry, I came across: "buffoonery"..."bugaboo"..."bugbear" and slammed the dictionary shut. The game was back on. Ingrid was crouched near my feet, looking up at me, smiling. When I wasn't paying attention she'd slipped near the basket and gone for the dunk: a block in my cup of water. Redoubt! There's another. I picked her up again. "I'm bout to dunk you, little girl."
