I'm not sure when it began but my son's report of his day in school has taken on a whole new slant.
When he started Primary 1 in January, he filled me in daily on what he ate during recess, so thrilled was he with the novelty of being able to buy his own food.
As friendships began to cement and I grew familiar with the cast of characters that made up his class in a boys' school, I got to hear about random things that A did, B said or C saw.
But increasingly, I'm also getting daily accounts spiked with a heavy dose of schoolboy or toilet humour.
"Mama, do you know how to spell iCup?" he asked one day.
"What's that?" I asked, perplexed. "Is it something to do with the iPad?"
Dying to deliver the punch line, he cackled madly as he hastened to get the answer out: "I-C-U-P. I see you pee. Get it?"
The jokes are invariably inane and often involve bodily emissions, which are an endless source of entertainment to him and his friends.
Another day, he couldn't wait to belt out the "toilet song" a friend had made up as we drove home from school. But he was laughing so hard I caught only a few choice words, such as bowl and smell.
His favourite so far is a party trick another friend showed him, where he puts his right hand under his left armpit, then flaps his left arm repeatedly to create a rude sound akin to passing gas. "You said practice makes perfect. I'm going to practise this every day until the sound is as loud as thunder," he announced proudly.
I rolled my eyes and exchanged looks with my husband, expecting him to tick off our son for wildly misapplying the well- meaning advice. Instead, I saw his eyes light up. "Hey, I know this too," he said and proceeded to model the way it should be done, producing the desired sound at a decibel that delighted my son.
"It's a boy thing," my spouse confessed.
Another "boy thing" that tickles my son to no end is coming up with messages that he keeps threatening to stick on the back of his four-year-old sister. "Mei mei, you better behave. If not, I'm going to write 'Kick me' and paste it on your shirt," he warned amid a fit of giggles. "Or 'Call me stupid'. Or 'Dump your rubbish here'."
If only you could channel this creativity and passion to more constructive things, I tell him repeatedly.
I'm no stranger to the juvenile antics of schoolboys, having attended a co-ed primary school.