Saturday, July 26, 2008


So, apparently H has taken the opportunity to let J in on the secret that I have developed what I am claiming to be a temporary case of Tourette's syndrome. Or, you can just blame it on the sleepless nights since C was born.

H's command of "build!" (he's capable of, and practices, far more complex sentences, but has recently decided that dictatorial utterances get more attention) took J into H's bedroom to play with Lego's. Their general routine is that one of them will build a tower, the other knocks it down and then they re-build, ultimately making a 'house' for all of H's animals that they can leave up.

Later that night, after the kids were tucked away and I was contemplating whether to have a Sam's Summer or cookies, J piped up with a smiley/smirk, the interpretation of which I'm still not clear, that H had said something he'd repeated at a time before I started really monitoring my words (and stopped watching The Sopranos and Sex and the City with him in the room) 'and he definitely knows the context now.'

It seems J knocked down the tower, as was the practice, and H blurted "Don't ever do that again! That is not nice! That is mean! Be Gentle! (and then, almost as an after thought...) God Dammit."

Ah, Shite...I did what any respectable person would do when caught red handed. 'Well, he didn't get that from me because when I say it, I just happen to blurt it and then I launch into the explanation of why he shouldn't throw sand/sweep a glass off the table/throw objects at neighboring diners.'

Yeeeeeeees, I'm sure I cleared that right up. J just rolled his eyes, and I called my mom to relay the story, laughing, because what else can you do? ...she's the only person who would appreciate my position as Marv certainly didn't teach us to exclaim 'Jesus, Mary and Joseph!'. I still can't recall a single time my dad cussed in front of me, that includes the time he was using a table saw and something got jammed causing the wood to come back and hit him in the crotch America's Funniest Home Video's style. His response; "YYYYYYYYowee!"

H, I thought we had a deal...I buy you Munchkins on demand and you don't tell Daddy my shortfalls. J, I warned you that I was way more qualified to protect other people's children.

Congratulations to Alisa and Sherri for winning the Starbucks cards and Preserve Toothbrushes!


Kevin McKeever said...

Munchkins don't mean the same to kids any more. G-damn, frickin' brats! Not yours, mine. Maybe.

Crafty Mama said...

:) I'm the one with a mouth in my house. I'm trying to get better, but ugh!!!

Apparently a munchkin doesn't have the same street value as it did when we were kids....:)

Maggie Bahnson said...

This reminds me of a story my friend told me about her 5 year old son. The dad dropped something, and the son asked, "Aren't you going to say God Dammit now? Isn't that what you always say when you drop something?"