The family settled to a quiet meal, a rare event now that the kids were teenagers. Dad and Mom shared a satisfied glance across the table.
“Dad, can you yeet me the potatoes?” asked Stan, their thirteen year old.
Shawn, their seventeen year old, suppressed a snicker.
Dad shook his head, thinking he misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Yeet me the potatoes,” repeated Stan.
Dad looked at Mom with shock and confusion.
“He wants you to pass him the potatoes,” interpreted Shawn.
“Big yeet,” said Stan.
“Big pass?” asked Mom.
“In this case, it means the affirmative,” added Shawn.
“Couldn’t you just say that?” asked Dad.
“I did,” said Stan.
“Yeet is not a word,” said Dad.
“Yes it is. I use it with my friends all the time,” replied Stan.
“Is it in the dictionary?” asked Mom.
“It’s in the urban dictionary,” said Stan.
Dad leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “First of all, the urban dictionary isn’t a real dictionary. And second, we live in the suburbs.”
Stan shook his head in defiance. “It’s still a word.”
“It’s kinda like saying ‘tubular’ when you were young,” added Shawn.
“That was way before our time,” interjected Mom.
“So what did you say?” asked Stan.
“We spoke English,” declared Dad.
“Yeah, right. Big yeet,” scoffed Stan.
“That’s not a word,” stressed Dad.
“Did you know Shakespeare invented a bunch of words in his plays? He even invented the name ‘Jessica’,” noted Shawn.
“That doesn’t justify ‘yeeting’ potatoes,” said Dad.
“It proves that language is constantly evolving. Maybe someday everybody will be saying yeet,” said Shawn.
“Big yeet,” smiled Stan, triumphantly.
Dad dropped his head and closed his eyes.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” said Stan. “If you want I can teach you the new language.”
Mom looked at Stan, then over at Dad. “That would be a big yeet, wouldn’t it, dear?”
“Sure,” replied Dad. “That would be totally tubular.”