Our little Bear has turned into a parrot.
This is good and bad. Good because he is talking up a storm and cracking us up on a daily basis. Bad because...well, clearly Brian and I have some serious work to do regarding our own clever choice of words.
It started on Sunday morning as Scotty and I traversed down the stairs. He wobbled a bit on the top step, steadied himself, and then exclaimed, "Dammit!" My mouth dropped open. He then made his way down all seventeen stairs (and two landings), cursing each step with another terse "Dammit!"
I immediately shot Brian a dirty look that said, "I blame you for this."
He shrugged and plead innocent.
Then on Monday, Scotty was putting together one of his wooden puzzle. When the piece didn't line up correctly, he threw the piece down and shouted, "God dammit!"
Oh holy Jesus.
I can't tell if he's feeding off our reaction of complete and total horror, or he simply does not know what he's saying, but Scotty is up to swearing about 15-20 times a day by now. I'm trying really hard to not react when he starts cursing, but it's so hard. On one hand, it's one of those cringe-inducing parenting moments when you're like, "Don't let the neighbors hear him!" On the other hand, it's downright hysterical. And then there is that lingering thought in the back of my mind of "How do I stop this without making it into a big deal...all out of earshot of the neighbors?"
Haven't figured it out yet.
These new curse words add to a litany of additional "OMG he's going to get kicked out of preschool before he even starts" fears. For example, Scotty has this little car; it's purple and gold with flames on the side. Quite rightly, Brian and I call it the "pimp car." We thought we were being silly well out of hearing distance from the Bear, but nope. Just other day, he ran up to me with that car in his hand and shouted, "Pimp car! Pimp car! Momb, pimp car!"
Um...
And don't even get me started on how he pronounces the name of Thomas the Train's best friend. His name is Percy, in case you don't know.
Just let your mind wander for a minute...roll the 'r'...soften it...
Yup, that's how he says it.
We're totally getting kicked out of preschool.
I attempted to have a little talk with our Bear, but it didn't go so well. I told him very calmly, after he had sworn 'God dammit!" for the up-teenth time that day, "No Scotty, we don't use that word. We don't say that." He looked at me with his big blues and with total sincerity (and confusion) said, "No dammit? No dammit?" I tried to not laugh (again), but man, this is rough.
So now he walks down the stairs saying, "No dammit. No dammit."
::sigh::
I figure I'll do what every good parent does: if I can't extinguish the behavior, I'm just going to spin it.
"Oh, what? He said what? No, no...see, we had a leak in our sink. I called the plumber and asked him to dam it...that's all. Dam it. Dam the leak. Nothing sinister going on over here. Haha, where is your mind going?"
This is good and bad. Good because he is talking up a storm and cracking us up on a daily basis. Bad because...well, clearly Brian and I have some serious work to do regarding our own clever choice of words.
It started on Sunday morning as Scotty and I traversed down the stairs. He wobbled a bit on the top step, steadied himself, and then exclaimed, "Dammit!" My mouth dropped open. He then made his way down all seventeen stairs (and two landings), cursing each step with another terse "Dammit!"
I immediately shot Brian a dirty look that said, "I blame you for this."
He shrugged and plead innocent.
Then on Monday, Scotty was putting together one of his wooden puzzle. When the piece didn't line up correctly, he threw the piece down and shouted, "God dammit!"
Oh holy Jesus.
I can't tell if he's feeding off our reaction of complete and total horror, or he simply does not know what he's saying, but Scotty is up to swearing about 15-20 times a day by now. I'm trying really hard to not react when he starts cursing, but it's so hard. On one hand, it's one of those cringe-inducing parenting moments when you're like, "Don't let the neighbors hear him!" On the other hand, it's downright hysterical. And then there is that lingering thought in the back of my mind of "How do I stop this without making it into a big deal...all out of earshot of the neighbors?"
Haven't figured it out yet.
These new curse words add to a litany of additional "OMG he's going to get kicked out of preschool before he even starts" fears. For example, Scotty has this little car; it's purple and gold with flames on the side. Quite rightly, Brian and I call it the "pimp car." We thought we were being silly well out of hearing distance from the Bear, but nope. Just other day, he ran up to me with that car in his hand and shouted, "Pimp car! Pimp car! Momb, pimp car!"
Um...
And don't even get me started on how he pronounces the name of Thomas the Train's best friend. His name is Percy, in case you don't know.
Just let your mind wander for a minute...roll the 'r'...soften it...
Yup, that's how he says it.
We're totally getting kicked out of preschool.
I attempted to have a little talk with our Bear, but it didn't go so well. I told him very calmly, after he had sworn 'God dammit!" for the up-teenth time that day, "No Scotty, we don't use that word. We don't say that." He looked at me with his big blues and with total sincerity (and confusion) said, "No dammit? No dammit?" I tried to not laugh (again), but man, this is rough.
So now he walks down the stairs saying, "No dammit. No dammit."
::sigh::
I figure I'll do what every good parent does: if I can't extinguish the behavior, I'm just going to spin it.
"Oh, what? He said what? No, no...see, we had a leak in our sink. I called the plumber and asked him to dam it...that's all. Dam it. Dam the leak. Nothing sinister going on over here. Haha, where is your mind going?"
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