She asked me when I first heard it, so I had to tell her the story. (When I said "the word" out loud she about fell out of her chair. I kinda like throwing her a curve ball every so often...keeps her guessing.) The story goes like this.
When I was in kindergarten I saw the letters F U C K written in chalk on the sidewalk outside my house. I stood there for several minutes trying to pronounce it, saying it out loud over and over...at first very slowly. FFFFF UUUU CK FFFUUUCK FFUUCK F*%K? I thought, "what a silly sounding word, what could it possibly mean"? Then, I thought what every sweet little 5 year old girl should, "I should ask my dad." So I marched into the house and walked right up to my dad and said, "Dad, what does f*%k mean"?
Well, you would have to know my very reserved father to realize just how funny this moment was. He looked at me with the best deer-in-the-headlights eyes that I have ever seen, turned around, shut his bedroom door and then through the door I heard him say, "Go ask your mother."
You would have to know my mother to know why I didn't go ask her...