For the, oh, say, two of you who regularly read my blog, you will remember that my kids have gotten quite creative with the insults. If you will recall, thus far we've had the kids calling each other an artichoke and an ice cube.
Well, grease up folks, because today my son got angry at my husband for lord knows what and called him (drumroll please. . . . .) a butterhead. Yep, butterhead. What the hell is a butterhead? Someone whose head you could fry an egg on? The closest I can figure was that he wanted to call DH a butthead, but then (wisely) thought better of it mid-word and changed it to butterhead.
Quick thinking, for a junior butterhead.