When You Spell A-S-S, It Isn't a Naughty Word

One of my favorite student's name is Skeet. That is his full first name, Skeet, though we wind up calling him Skeeter, Mosquito, Skeeto. He is a Navajo, which explains the name and also his hair. Long, jet black hair that shines from root to end, course and thick. It is long, falling down to his shoulder blades in the braid his mother creates for him. Sometimes it is one standard braid, sometimes two merging into one, sometimes a series of ponytails waterfalling into a long rope on his two-year old back. After naptime, stray wisps wriggle out of the braid to form a halo around his head when the light shines from behind him. Other parents often mistake him for a girl if they don't look closely. Other kids on occasion too, when they have occasion between the sand box and the toy box to consider it. He has such beautiful eyes too from his Indian descent--round and almost Asian, with no arching line along the eyelid like I have. Smooth from brow to lash.

His appearance is not the only thing that draws me to him, though. It's his personality. He's pure boy, he's a spark of energy wrapped in baby fat arms--pudgy in the hand and the arm but with that little crease at the wrist, as if there were a rubber band around it, as he wraps those arms around your neck. To wake him up from nap, I pick him up, shake him a bit, and he often falls right back to sleep in my arms, melting against my chest. Pure boy--when he first came to school his only words were "truck" and "nana" and he calls all his teachers "nana." Now he calls me "Nana Gnomey" but his vocabulary is expaning very quickly. "What that? What that?" Or he points at anything and says, "This?" and then repeats your response.

"This?"
"Tree."
"Tree. This?"
"Sunglasses."
"Unlasses."
"This red car?"
"Yes, Skeet."

Well, he's a joy to have around most the time and I'm pretty sure he likes me too. It's me he comes to when he wants to show off something. When he needs something. To play with. But here comes the actual story, if you are still listening that is.

The other afternoon, we came in from outside and he was all riled up and happy. We all took off our coats and I had my back turned for a moment when I he ran at my legs to give me a hug. A big, roaring, wrestling-like hug. I felt his arms go around my legs, up close to the hips and then, bang, his teeth went into my ass. Well, I was a bit stunned and my yelp stunned him too. I whipped around and the other teacher, also, was standing aghast. After the yell, we then dissolved into laughing. I told The Boyfriend about it that night and he didn't really know what to think.

"Why?"
"Well, because he's two and he doesn't really know how to express anything."
"But I thought he liked you."
"Yeah, he was playing. Kind of wrestling and he bit in the process."
"Well, I think I'd like to have a word with this Skeet." The Boyfriend, hand on hips, tried to look tough. "Now, listen here..."
"If you want to have a word with him, it better be either Nana or Truck, Boyfriend."
"Okay, how about 'If you bite Nana's ass, I'm going to take away your truck?'"
"Could work. But you can't say ass. We say bottom."
"Then, if you bite Nana Gnomey's A-S-S, no truck for you?"
"Nice."