The Hardy Boys

Charter has embarked on a new fantastical journey.  He finally found a series of books that are more engrossing than Captain Underpants.  He has been flying through our small store of them as our girls have mostly left them untouched. 
The other night, a full hour after his bedtime & at least a half hour after i thought he was asleep, he came streaking into my room like a flustered, rumpled ball of pyjamas. 
"Mom, there's a bad word in my Hardy Boys book."
"No there's not." Neil laughed from behind me. 
"Yes.  There is." 
My son is the worlds biggest rule follower.  Sometimes i wonder if a son could be less like his father.  The brow of his fair skinned face is furrowed and disapproving, Neil's olive coloured brow framed with thick dark hair is open and teasing. 
"What is it?" i ask, and the furrow deepens in his brow & he pushes his lips into a thin line.  He doesn't want to tell me. 
"It starts with a D..." he hesitates. 
"Is it 'darn'?" i ask...
"No."  He looks mad & i can tell Neil's laughter is making him uncomfortable.  i pinch Neil as he begins to voice his own suggestions.  He's not helping. 
"Mom, think: Moby..." he gives me a hint.  "And, no, it wasn't the guy's name either.  They called the detective that name."
"Charter, a dick is just another name for a detective... It's not a bad word, just a word that doesn't get used all that much anymore."
"Oh..." he uncrosses his arms and i can't help myself, i'm laughing too... & pretty soon, the corners of  his sweet, justice loving pink mouth turn up in a grin too.  i love how even in his seriousness, he can still laugh at himself. 
"i guess i'll go to bed now..."
"Ya, no more Hardy Boys till tomorrow, k?"
"m'k." he agrees thumping down the stairs three at a time. 
& how will he find his way, this son of mine who sees the world all in black and white? The wonder of motherhood, the unexpected humour and twists that each tiny one brings to this place leaves me breathless.