There's been some confusion in our house lately over some of the things the kids have come out with.

Specifically, our three-year-old boy came home from daycare telling me he had been playing "minges" with the other boys. I was stunned. All the kids at daycare seem lovely and sweet. Which one of these kids has parents who speak to them like that?

Then I chuckled. I hadn't heard that word in many, many years. So I was sure it hadn't been me. But what if I have said it and can't remember? In front of the kids, though. Really?

I'm half way through my third pregnancy so I haven't been drinking. But my memory isn't great right now regardless… would I use THAT word? One can never be sure.

As I tried to recall if I may have actually used this vulgar term for vagina, our boy added: "Yeah, we played night minges."

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That sort of gives it a more sinister spin. Night minges?

I braced myself and asked him: "What's night minges?"

"We play minges. Like this:" He assumed a fighting pose, one leg back, arms ready to attack and shouted: "Heeeeyaaaaa" while waving his arm as if holding a sword.

Oh Ninjas! You're playing Ninjas! Great game, buddy. That would have been heaps of fun!

Of COURSE that's what they're playing. They're freaking three for goodness sake.

I think he probably meant "knight ninjas". Because they like to fight like knights, pretending they have swords and shields.

Then I spent the evening feeling guilt and shame. Why do I always jump to the worst conclusion? How had I tarnished some sweet little innocent boy's game with my assumptions?

It's not the first time, we have faced similar confusion as I have mentioned before. But it is the most shocking conclusion I have jumped to thus far.

In a similar vein, recently our boy has been asking my husband for "the Donut Song" he said he had heard at daycare. My husband lets the kids choose songs and plays them. I truly have no idea how he eventually worked out what the Donut Song is, but his investigations revealed it's "Don't give it up" by Kiwi band Six60. The one with the chorus that goes "so don't even, don't even, don't even try." But, you know… donuts.

When you're three, things are whatever you want them to be and donuts are well up there.
Good on you, buddy, you just go on hearing what you want to hear. Mum's got plenty more heart attack moments to come. Why stop now?