You're old enough to remember the pronoun nightmare that was The Smurfs. But to the little ones? Smurfs are just cute!

Sharon took a steely-eyed look at the Smurf head on the handlebars of the My First Smurfy Trike.

"So. We meet again."

Sharon had met this particular creature before, once upon a time, back in the 1980s. She'd been a young woman just starting her life. No cable, no Internet, and Saturday morning was still designed around the children. It was a calm, sweet, beautiful era. And then, it ended. With the word "Smurf."

Sharon remembered the children at the day care. "I feel Smurfy!" "I got a new Smurf today!" "I wouldn't Smurf that to Smurf my life!" The teachers would brush if off like it was nothing. But for a young mother desperate to do everything right? It was shattering.

Sometimes Smurf was a noun. Sometimes Smurf was an adjective. A few times Sharon was CERTAIN that Smurf was in the past participle, though maybe she just dreamed that. All her friends and neighbors seemed to understand it perfectly. WHY. COULDN'T. SHE.

When the 90s came around, she'd assumed The Smurfs were gone forever. But now, staring at her, in the place of honor on a brand new trike, was that familiar blue face.

Sharon patted it. "You're lucky," she said, "you're lucky my granddaughter loves you. But she'll forget you one day. And when that day comes, my little blue friend… you're Smurfed."

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