A few weeks ago my younger son came home from school all excited. "Mom! Guess what?" he shouted from the entranceway as he kicked off his shoes. "The ku gave us a gohan buza!" I had been hard at work on an article and was a little slow making the transition to his eclectic mix of languages. Why would the ward give us a "rice buzzer?," I wondered. I've already got a timer on my automatic rice cooker.

I went to the door. "Um . . . what's a gohan buza?" My son stared at me, rendered momentarily speechless by this further piece of evidence that his mother is a dimwit. "Mo-omm!" he groaned. "I didn't say 'gohan.' I said 'bohan!' "

Oh. Bohan. As in, "anti-crime." Right, I knew that.