Remember last year when Little Red was learning to speak? Boy was I embarassed that he taught a few of his friends the word truck but couldn’t yet make the “tr-” blend and used an “f” instead. When he grew out of it I thought I was free for a while from hearing foul language. After all, the worst words Paul and I use are “crap” and “gosh” and we’ve really limited those around the sponge. (And we spell when we say things like “I was an i-d-i-o-t.”)
Out of the blue, in the garden section at Target yesterday Little Red starting yelling something quite disturbing for all on the second floor to hear. Acting quickly I thought of a reasonable substitute for the words he was saying but didn’t understand. “Are you saying fun kit?” As what he was really saying had no meaning to him he went along with my suggestion, but continued yelling it. I calmly explained that when he did that it sounded a lot like a bad word that we don’t say. We didn’t want people to hear him and think he’s a bad boy. I’m not sure what all I said but he stopped, and I haven’t heard it since.
whew! (for now)