I remember when my little sister was about 2 and we went to the lake. After a hellacious time getting our boat on the trailer while my sister and me listened to my mom mumble obscenities under her breath at my step dad, we exited the boat and were on dry land. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. , knew just how to break the tension and belted out a “Ass hole!” I died laughing. The way you are not supposed to when children learn these things. But at the time it really was the funniest thing ever.
Now I have a 2 year old and I do not have the cleanest mouth in the world, nor does my husband. So, of course history has repeated itself and my little man is cussing. I must admit he does it in a very cute and innocent manner. Over the weekend Wyatt decided to take his shoes off in the yard and walk through a sticker bush. When Brett went out the rescue him (shoeless) he walked right through the same bush. He grabbed his foot and said “Ouch that hurt.” Wyatt, in his sweet caring voice said, “Daddy, you got Puckin’ Owies? You got Puckin’ Owies Daddy?” This must mean that our curse words are so common place that it makes perfect sense to us them causally as adjectives. Then yesterday Wyatt and I were taking a bath and he was coloring with his bath crayons (yes they really have such things) he was upset that he had messed up his nose on his drawing and mumbles ever so softly, “Jesus Christ.” I asked him what he said and he looked at me matter of factly, “Christ”. And that was that.
I know he shouldn’t say these words and I vow to try harder not to cuss so much. But in the mean time I don’t think I am going to draw attention to them. I don’t think he knows they are bad yet and once he does, I really think I will be in trouble. For now Jesus Puckin’ Christ is alright with me.
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