Holy Sh&t!
The day that I dreaded has come: Mr. C has actually started repeating our less-than-desirable vocabulary outbursts at random, and often awkward, occasions. Such as public occasions.
Case in point: to my knowledge, he was the only three-year-old at a recent birthday party to calmly mutter “Oh, sh&t,” when the adorable little plastic chair set out for his use fell away from its matching adorable little plastic table.
Also: I didn’t hear anyone else yell “Sh&t!” at my family reunion when it became necessary to pick up a dropped napkin. But perhaps that’s because we tend to yell other things. (Yeah, like “Yahtzee!”)
Honestly, I blame Bee for Mr. C’s sudden case of Turret’s. No, I’m not implying that it’s all his fault . . . I will accept that I swear much more than does Bee, and with much more force. However, as soon as Mr. C began repeating some of our more colorful phrases, I cleaned up my act quicker than a hooker on the Day of Reckoning. (“Oh, darn!” I now shout with passion when Mr. C happily punches me in the eye.) Bee, however, has continued to swear in front of our little cherub, a nasty habit I am attempting, with much nagging and superiority, to break him of.
It’s a slow process.
“Holy sh&t!” chirped our darling the other day when he dropped one of his toy cars.
“He gets that from you,” I informed Bee calmly, who raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I have never combined the ‘S.H.’ word with ‘Holy’,” I continued piously. “That’s just sacrilegious.”
“Mr. C, don’t say that word,” Bee admonished.
So, naturally, our young innocent smiled hugely and yelled, “Sh&t! Sh&t! Sh&t!”
I tried distracting him with a more interesting phrase. “Heavens to Mergetron!” I exclaimed, with much gusto and excitement.
Mr. C, however, would have nothing to do with it. “No,” he corrected, “sh&t!”
Bee looked stricken. “Damn it, how do we keep him from saying ‘sh&t’?”
I was cringing long before Mr. C ran up to his dad, looked up into his eyes, and grinned, “Damn it!”
Well, at least it’s a step in the right direction.
For now, I try to ignore him when he says something bad, in the hopes that the novelty will soon wear off and he’ll eventually forget ‘sh&t’ even exists. And I do think it’s working . . . so long as I send him far, far away whenever Bee and I are trying to work together.
And on a side note: why is it that our children have absolutely no trouble repeating our swear words, but we can’t for the life of us get them to say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’?
Case in point: to my knowledge, he was the only three-year-old at a recent birthday party to calmly mutter “Oh, sh&t,” when the adorable little plastic chair set out for his use fell away from its matching adorable little plastic table.
Also: I didn’t hear anyone else yell “Sh&t!” at my family reunion when it became necessary to pick up a dropped napkin. But perhaps that’s because we tend to yell other things. (Yeah, like “Yahtzee!”)
Honestly, I blame Bee for Mr. C’s sudden case of Turret’s. No, I’m not implying that it’s all his fault . . . I will accept that I swear much more than does Bee, and with much more force. However, as soon as Mr. C began repeating some of our more colorful phrases, I cleaned up my act quicker than a hooker on the Day of Reckoning. (“Oh, darn!” I now shout with passion when Mr. C happily punches me in the eye.) Bee, however, has continued to swear in front of our little cherub, a nasty habit I am attempting, with much nagging and superiority, to break him of.
It’s a slow process.
“Holy sh&t!” chirped our darling the other day when he dropped one of his toy cars.
“He gets that from you,” I informed Bee calmly, who raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I have never combined the ‘S.H.’ word with ‘Holy’,” I continued piously. “That’s just sacrilegious.”
“Mr. C, don’t say that word,” Bee admonished.
So, naturally, our young innocent smiled hugely and yelled, “Sh&t! Sh&t! Sh&t!”
I tried distracting him with a more interesting phrase. “Heavens to Mergetron!” I exclaimed, with much gusto and excitement.
Mr. C, however, would have nothing to do with it. “No,” he corrected, “sh&t!”
Bee looked stricken. “Damn it, how do we keep him from saying ‘sh&t’?”
I was cringing long before Mr. C ran up to his dad, looked up into his eyes, and grinned, “Damn it!”
Well, at least it’s a step in the right direction.
For now, I try to ignore him when he says something bad, in the hopes that the novelty will soon wear off and he’ll eventually forget ‘sh&t’ even exists. And I do think it’s working . . . so long as I send him far, far away whenever Bee and I are trying to work together.
And on a side note: why is it that our children have absolutely no trouble repeating our swear words, but we can’t for the life of us get them to say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’?
Comments
Post a Comment