Last night, my husband peered over my shoulder and read some of the page of the book I was reading on my iP*d. I’ll admit that right now I’m still a little miserable from the flu, so I’m reading complete and total brain candy that requires no concentration whatsoever. And of course the page I was reading happened to be an attempted seduction in a pretty clean otherwise historical fiction novel.
Oh, he said, looking at my with eyebrows raised. So this is the kind of stuff you read, is it?
Well, not really, I hemmed. You happened to catch a particularly salacious portion of it. It isn’t usually-
I heard you, Mommy! I can hear what you’re talking about! piped in Mister Man who was supposed to be falling asleep in his bedroom, granted only four feet from where I was still sitting on the steps after having put the wee ones to bed. What does “salacious” mean?
Mommy’s reading a salacious book, Mister Man, my husband cheerfully started, as Mister Man giggled wildly at the word that for him was apparently so fun to say.
Sa-Layyyyy_schuss. Suhhhhh-laaaayyy-schuss! Salacious salacious salacious! he began singing and dancing in the hallway before I could usher him back to his room.
That’s where I poked my husband in the side. You do realize that he’s going to go into school tomorrow and announce to his teacher and probably the whole class that Mommy reads salacious books, right?
My husband simply nodded, grinning. I’m still waiting from the call from the teacher demanding an explanation. But hey… at least he learned a new word. Sort of.