It started off as a joke about 6 years ago. Spawn was telling me about a visit to a friend’s house, and then he mentioned that his friend had made peach pie and that he had eaten some and really enjoyed it. I have a particular fondness for peach pie; it brings back some good memories of time spent as a child with one of my favorite aunts, my grandmother, and summertime in the South. So I asked him if he had brought me a piece of peach pie. “No,” he said, “I didn’t know you wanted some.” “BUM!” I replied, “I love peach pie!” We both laughed.
For some reason, that stuck. Every time he’d ask me if I’d washed and dried his jeans and I hadn’t, he’d “BUM” at me, and I returned the favor when asking about homework he hadn’t done yet. It was always a joke between us, with no hard feelings on either side. The other kids picked it up over time, too. It could be worse; it could be something obscene.
I guess it was only a matter of time, though, for the next stage. I was pouring myself coffee this morning, and Hawthorne asked me for a waffle. I said, “Sorry, no waffles.” And he replied, in a loud, clear birdie voice, “BUM!” and then he cackled at me.
I think I got my just desserts.