“Mama? What’s a swear?”

I was driving when Regina asked that question, I looked over at Annie and smiled.

Annie smiled back, and carefully framed her words before answering, “Well Sweetie. A swear can be a couple of things. It can be a bad word, a grown-up word, a word you should not say. Or it can be a promise. Like swear on a stack of Bibles; or swearing your Love to another.”

“Hmm.” This was followed by silence.

Annie rolled her eyes, “Why are you asking?”

“Well…there was a boy at the playground,” (this is never a good beginning) “He said that Son of a Bitch is a swear.”

I struggled to stay on the road. Annie covered her mouth, hiding her laughter. That little, husky voice of hers, saying “Son of a Bitch” was a little more than we could handle.

Annie composed herself, “Okay! In this case, the boy is correct, it is a swear and it is a bad word, and you really shouldn’t say it anymore.” That wasn’t entirely true. Annie kinda wanted to hear her, with that voice of hers, say it again.

“But…what if you say it not as a bad word but as a promise?”

“What do you mean Hun?”

“Like I swear that you are a son of a bitc….”

“It doesn’t work that way Reggie! It’s a bad word. Okay?”

“Fine.” The rest of the ride Home, and the week following had Reg occupied with finding a loophole with this phrase; and trying to figure out how she can say it without getting in trouble.

Her birthday was last week. It was her sixth birthday. Not particularly a milestone birthday, but it tends to stick with me. I think it’s mostly because I had a pretty good sixth birthday. With the youngest, we’re beginning to realize all of the milestones will be our final milestones. It’s a little sad. I still kind of want to keep her as my baby, yet I am fascinated at what kind of a young lady she will be growing up to be. I’ve said it before, her firsts will be our lasts.

“Daddy, I Love your warm chest.” She said as she snuggled in deeper.

“Someday, she will do this for the last time.” I thought. And I allowed that feeling to soak deep into my memory.

She has a generic “troublemaker” label pinned to her. But that label is not necessarily accurate, she’s not that bad. She’s clever, she’s resourceful and bold. Her intelligence is sublime and when it reveals itself, we’re a little chilled.

“She’s really onto us, isn’t she?” Annie asked me as we sipped our morning coffee.

“Yup.” I replied, staring off into the distance. Mulling over all the potentially damning conversations she might have been listening in on.

I’m convinced both of our daughters will be rich when they grow up, Lyd will make her money doing something nerdy. Something having to do with robotics or coding or something like that. She has already given me a couple tips and tricks with word documents. Regina—I think I’ll just make it a point to not ask her how she makes her money.

“And I looked and behold there was a pink kick scooter, and her name that stood on it was Reg, and Chaos followed with her.”

(That one was for all of you Clint Eastwood Fans).

She may not technically be a troublemaker, but that does not take away the fact that chaos rides on her heels as her equal and she does so with a natural sense of comedic timing. There have been so many moments where I’ve been thinking, “Stop that! I’m supposed to be angry with you right now!”

She will be starting kindergarten this year. This will be the first time that she will be having full days at school, eating school lunches, having a taste of the independence she has always craved.

I will finally have a chance to clean out some clutter, work on some projects (throwing out unused toys), I can finish the book! Take full work days!

I’m going to miss the hell out of her.

“Yup.” Was my answer when Annie asked me if she’s onto us. Our conversation went on from there, peppered with the occasional chuckle.

“Sounds like she’s awake.” Annie said as we listened to the upstairs floorboards creak. Moments later a bed-headed squinty-eyed Reg was in the kitchen.

“Good morning Reggie.” Annie said.

“Mama? What’s a turd?”

“Son of a bitch.” Annie muttered into her coffee mug.