Monday, October 23, 2006

From The Mouths Of Babes, Part Deux

No, this ISN'T going to become a blog that is devoted entirely to my son. I SWEAR it isn't. Believe me, I hate the blogs where every other entry is about what color poo little Britney did last night, as much as you guys do....

But This one story, I HAD to share....

Lately, my son has been obsessed with "bad" words. I don't mean that he is running around the house like a miniature version of Andre Dice Clay, but let's face it; kids hear things, and they pick stuff up like friggin' sponges. As much as my wife and I try to curb our tongue around the wee one, sometimes, things slip out, and Damn does he not let us forget it.

In the past few weeks, it has become pretty much a daily occurrence that at some point Joey will come up to me and say, "Daddy, is XXXX a bad word?".

Now, most of the time, "XXXX" is something like "icky", or "spoon". It never fails to amaze me what he might consider to be a bad word.

That isn't to say, however, that he has not actually picked up some bad words here and there. In the past 2 months, he has asked me about "Shit", "jackass", and a few other choice ones. Not to mention last month where he dropped the F-bomb on us at dinner, wanting to know if he could say it or not. That scene had me choking on my pasta, let me assure you.

Which brings me to this weekend's tableau. My father was in town this weekend, visiting from Florida. It was a big deal since we hadn't seen him for a while, and for the most part, this weekend our home was filled with relatives visiting. At one point Friday night we had an exceptionally large amount of people over.

It was at this point that my son decides to enter the room, where this exchange took place in front of the entire party:

"Daddy, is 'Dick' a bad word?"

(after picking my jaw up off the floor....)
"Ack! Yes, Joe. That is a VERY bad word! I don't want you to EVER say that again"

"It's a bad word?"

"Yes, very bad!"

(long pause)

"So then I guess you are only allowed to say it when you're in traffic?"

Well, at that point, the room pretty much exploded with laughter.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it is a sad sad day when I can't even curse in the relative anonymity of my damn car anymore, because the Mini-Me in the back seat soaks up every Damn thing I say like he is a living Quicker-Picker-Upper for 4-letter words.

Well, I've learned my lesson.

From now on, he wears earmuffs in the car.

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