It was inevitable.
I curse. I would love to think I am peaceful all the time, but damn the stress . . . I'm not. So between me, and whatever else he overhears, Demon Baby has learned curse words. Bad ones.
Bitch. (Which he calls Bits. As in, "Mom, you are such a BITS.")
He gets yelled at. Threatened with time-out. Doesn't matter. He uses them. So, through the process of ignoring him, they are dying down.
Except for . . .
You are full of crap.
Now, the use of crap was my own attempt to not curse aroudn my kids. I remember my mom used to say, "Aww . . . SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHugar!" when we were little. When now I know, man, she wants to say, "sh*t." So I attempted to do the same. In other words, instead of saying, "Holy sh*t!" I now say "Holy crap!"
But then . . . having a 3-year-old spouting off "HOLY CRAP!" about nearly everything . . . is both funny and ridiculous. And . . . wearying.
"The mailman is here."
"HOLY CRAP, MOM!"
"Eat your peas."
"Look at the cardinal in the tree."
"HOLY CRAP! Will you look at that?"
Each has slightly different inflection.
So I suppose I am grateful he only uses the F-word once in a while and instead is the All-Crap Channel, All the Time.
But . . . well . . . CRAP!