Summary: It's repost week while I knock out a good chunk of my upcoming book. This week I'm sharing my favorite posts from before most of you were ever around. Thanks, Dan I'm just gonna warn you right now. This post is chock-full of swear words. All from hilarious conversations stemming from the completely-innocent-yet-not-so-innocent words of my four-year old son... If that'll offend you, I'd advise skippin' it and coming back tomorrow for fluffy bunnies and rainbows. Or something overly dramatic and heavy. I haven't decided yet. Anyway... Noah's been repeating bad words, and every time it happens, I'm always left scratching my head wondering, "where is he learning this language?" For example... A few months back, we were sitting at the kitchen counter coloring pictures of monsters together. "I don't need this shit!" he suddenly exclaimed as he colored wings onto his scaly creation. "What'd you say?" My eyes had gone from overly tired to bulging from their sockets. His emotions didn't change. He just kept looking at his paper, scribbling something amazing with his ever-dulling crayon. "I saaaiiiid, I don't need this shit!" Okay... I'd never really thought through how I'd handle this when it happened and I somewhat panicked. Where had he heard that? I'd never turned on anything more than a PG movie for him, and as far as I knew, he'd never heard me cuss. Okay, once when I accidentally stabbed myself in the wrist with a screwdriver, but other than that... I'm pretty careful about what I say around him. And I knew that phrase didn't come from this household. "Where'd you hear that?" I asked, not wanting him to feel bad for something he didn't yet understand was wrong. "Avatar." I quickly ducked into another room, called his mom right then and there and had one of those "what are you letting our kid watch over there?!" discussions. I *may* have blown it a little bit out proportion. His mom felt bad, not having realized how un-kid-friendly Dances with Wolves Avatar might just be. She thought he'd just pay attention to the cool blue people. We worked it out, I hung up the phone, and looked at Noah ready to give him "the speech." "We don't need this shit, Dad!" "Okay... Noah, that's a word we don't use in this house." "What word?" "Shit." Ugh. I felt so dirty saying it to my kid, but how do you not in such a situation? "Shit?" he chimed back. Ugh. "Yep. Don't say that word." "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit..." "Noah, what did I just say?!" "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Why can't I say shit?" I groaned. I was not enjoying this parenthood moment. "Noah, I'll tell you why it's a bad word, but when I ask you not to say something you don't say it anymore, okay?" "Okay." "Thank you." "I won't say shit, Dad." "Thank you." "Can you say shit?" He looked at me with those giant eyes of his as if he had no clue what tricks he was pulling. Keep reading on the next page. It gets out of control. "Noah, stop saying shit. Do you need an uh-oh?" We call time-outs uh-ohs at our house. "But you just said shit." Crap. This kid is too smart for his own good. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it. Let's both try not to say it. Okay?" "How come?" "Cause it's a bad word." "How come it's a bad word?" I didn't really know. "It just is. It's a word we don't say in this house, okay?" "What does shit mean?" "Noah... don't say that again." "Sorry." "Thanks buddy. I know you don't know that some words are bad, but when you find out that some words are naughty you shouldn't..." "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!" I sighed. "Go have an uh-oh." He sulked off of his barstool and headed for the kitchen wall. "Dad, I promise I won't do it again." "You made an interesting choice to say it again. You still get an uh-oh." He leaned his head against the wall and stared at the ground. I reached across for the egg timer and set it to four minutes.
