Webster boy

Jack likes words.  He likes to understand them. 

He learned the word "Epic" at church --I'm assuming from his peers.

It's one of those fad words that the young generation will not associate with it's original meaning.  When I think of "epic" I think of Homer, the Odyssey and Mrs. Greiner.

Mike and I are officially old.  We're still saying, "Sweet!" and "Tha' Bomb" and "Cool Beans"

We're too old for "Yolo" and "Epic," "Wicked cool," "Fail" and even "Stoked".  I can't say those words without giggling.  I know I'm in my 30s. 

The other day in the car Jack asked me: "Mom?  Do you know what 'epic' means?"

 I opened my mouth, ready to respond with: "Yes, it's a long narrative poem in elevated style recounting the deeds of a legendary or historical hero."

But before I could say anything Jack says: "It means 'totally awesome,' like: "That was epic."

"Oh.  Cool beans."  I replied.  (Just kidding, I didn't.)


Then yesterday, I guess he'd been pondering the word even more, he tells me:

 "Mom.  When something is epic it is something you like to see, but it's hard to do ...like the Olympics.  The Olympics are epic."