The Swear Jar |
Me: “Tagg, what do you want for lunch?”
Tagg: “I want a fuckin’ smoothie.”
Me: Long Pause of Disbelief. WHAT DID HE JUST SAY?!?!
“Um, what?”
Please, please let him say PUMPKIN smoothie. PUMPKIN smoothie…
Tagg: “I want a fuckin’ smoothie, please.”
Me: At
least he said please. No wait...this is really bad. Speedy Internal Debate… Do I ignore it? Do I tell him not to say
it? Last time I did that he said “dammit” about a hundred times in a row. Do I
pretend like he actually said “pumpkin?” I have to say something, right? What
do you say to your 4-year-old dropping the f-bomb like it’s any other
adjective? And what have my parents been teaching him?!
So I pulled over and told Tagg that was a
very adult word, and not a nice one at that and he shouldn’t use it ever. And
if he ever heard an adult use that word he should tell them it’s not a nice
word. And then we went and got a fuckin’ smoothie. After I texted Scott to let
him know that his son is now fluent with his patented swear word. I mean, I may
be “Dammit Girl” but this f-bomb stuff is ALL Scott. I do like to gloat a
little bit about that.
And I now have a swear jar for the kids. I put in a quarter every time they drop one of the good ones. The not-so-awful ones get nickles and dimes. Pennies for any time Scott and I drop one of any caliber. At this rate, we might be able to pay for college.
No comments:
Post a Comment