After the naughty list comes the naughty words...

 

 

 

 

 

... cause you know, every family needs a "Seven Dirty Words" a la George Carlin.

I thought the typical "F word" started our list, until the day that the firstborn was walking all around the house screaming, " I need a F***!"  When we stopped snorting so loud that we could approach him without cracking up (because he was three at the time and if we laughed, we'd hear it for the next nine months), we gently inquired where he had heard it. He said he made it up himself.  I said maybe he could say "duck" instead.  The response:  "Maybe.  Did you know that "duck" and "f***" rhyme, Dad? "  I had to admit that I did. "So it's like saying the same word.  Sometimes I'll say "F***" and sometimes I'll say duck."  Thankfully, he forgot about that within the week.

Not to be outdone is his sweet brother, whose forays into linguistic vulgarity are accidental rather than experimental.  For example, he has a most difficult time saying the "st" sound, choosing to replace it with "D."  Sometimes this makes his would-be insults less insulting, like when he gets really angry and tells us that "we acting dupid."  That doesn't quite sting so much.  Other times, though, the results can be devastating.  He loves a good tree branch as a handy weapon and can wield it quite effectively when other (larger) children attempt to forcibly move him against his will.
Still, the day he told us that "the other kids tried to beat me up but I grabbed my *stick* and hit them with my *stick* until they ran away.  Then I waved my *stick* at them one more time when they went inside.  They not fight me anymore while my *stick* is out,"  we didn't even try to stop laughing.

This last particular dirty word, however, is my fault.  I didn't even know what a rotten fellow I was. I was sharing a particularly nice post-nap cuddle with the Jaelster with Elijah neatly tucked away in the kitchen with his new Legos (Thanks Ina Tubbs!) and Judah snoring away upstairs, when Elijah hollered that he needed help constructing his massive semi-trailer.  I inwardly rolled my eyes, but Jael tucked sweetly over my shoulder and we waltzed in to save Elijah's day. On the way in she picked up her head and gave me a slobber-kiss.  Not normally the over-romantic type, I inadvertently polluted Elijah's ears.  "Awewww," I said.  "Isn't Jael such a snuggle-bug today?"

"DAD!"

"What?"

"Apologize RIGHT NOW!"

Ummm... what??"  By now I was concerned.  He had just gone  0 to 60 faster than his mother on vacation, which is tough to do.

"How would you like it if I called you a BUG?"

"Ah, I wouldn't care--"

"You wouldn't!  You're lying!  You tell us not to call each other filthy names, but then you think you can call Jael that!  How would you like to be called a bug?  Bugs are slimy!  SLIMY!  You wouldn't!  Don't EVER do it again!"

Don't you want help with.."

"Apologize to Jael now!"

So I did.... and I have never (and by never I mean not when near Elijah) called Jael a term of endearment again.  Me and my potty mouth.

On the other hand, Jael's future boyfriends should probably wait until LJ moves out of the house before bothering to show their face.  :)