This morning, while my husband and I were playing with our JackRussellTerrier, he wanted to make a point about sneaking up on the poor pup. As he moved his hand toward the dog and wiggled his finger near the dog’s ear, what he wanted to say came out of his mouth like this:
“The fingle ficker of F—-“and ended in hysterical laughter…From both of us.
Yes, he was guilty of what I like to call Language Slaughter. I am sure we all have been at one time.
I can remember when I was around thirteen and my best friend came over to ask what my little sister and I had been up to. This ensued in my first case of Language Slaughter when, within ear-shot of my mother, I tried to answer my friend’s question. I had been watching ‘Bewitched’.
My answer got me grounded for the evening.