Wednesday, October 13, 2010

It's His Fault.

On our last visit to Pittsburgh my mom, Icie and I did some shopping. My parents threw Icie an early birthday party just in case we didn't make it back before she turns the big 2.  We had decorations to buy. My mom was also in the market for some fabric.  We were casually strolling through JoAnn Fabrics when it happened.
My daughter, my precious angel,  my perfect toddler let out the mother of all swears. Clear as can be without hesitation, without doubt, and in her best outside voice FUCK rang out through JoAnn fabrics.  The mother of all swears was followed by a lot of babbling.  I quickly scanned the aisle we were in to see who else may have heard little Miss Sailor Mouth.  It was just me and my mom.  Thank God.
I explained to my mom that it had to be Dave's fault. I keep telling him to watch what he says, she's repeating everything.  It HAS to be his fault.  My mom was quick to point out that I use the phrase "fuckity fuck fuck" often.  I protested and told her I don't use it Icie's presence, not enough for her to really pick it up.
That's right, it's all Dave's fault, he's expressive he can't help it.  I could solidly say it's not my fault.
We headed out to my mom's car and Icie started to have a meltdown, I pulled out my reserve cuppie and a little carton of milk we had picked up.  I spilled the milk down the center console of my mom's car.  Guess what came out of my mouth without hesitation, without doubt and in my best outside voice? That's right fuckity fuck fuck.  It was an isolated incident though I swear.
Fast forward a few weeks  and Icie has become obsessed with the Princess and The Frog.  It's been OnDemand and she adores it.  I put it on after lunch one day this week.  I was in the loft office looking down on her while I shredded papers.  I walked away from the office and into her room for a minute to get her room ready for nap time.  I got Monkers and Otter in place, shut the curtains, and pulled her comforter back.  I was planning on running down to the living room and making a quick scoop and putting her right down.  I was in her room when I heard it again.  A happy voice singing, "fuck, fuck,fuck, fucky, fuck, fucky, fuck".  I was mortified.  I thought that JoAnn Fabrics was a onetime deal.  I looked over into the living room from the loft and saw Icie dancing with her Princess and The Frog birthday card, kissing it, and singing.  It was then I realized what I thought was fuck was frog.  That's what I'm telling myself anyway. 

5 comments:

  1. It's absolutely his fault. I can't imagine a delicate flower such as yourself using that kind of language :)

    I don't yell "fucking hell" everytime I step on one of Pie's toys either...

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  2. HA! It's *especially* good when they use such words in context. And I agree: it's totally HIS fault. It always is. :)

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  3. MUAHAHAHA!! Great story.

    I've been telling Bobby and Levi that they only have so much longer to talk dirty like they do because the first time Jack repeats...it's over and I will bring the wrath every time they curse or tell a dirty joke in from of my precious babies. It's only a matter of time before I smite both of them!

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