Tuesday, November 4, 2008

It could be worse...

Early one morning, I was sleepily navigating up the stairs toward my bedroom to get dressed. My 8-year old son was bouncing around his own room, when I heard a sharp crack, like a bony body part connecting with a hard surface. Bracing myself for the inevitable howl of pain, I was surprised by the continued silence. But as I drew closer, I distinctly heard my son mutter angrily, "Damn wall!" Now, not to seem like Miss Goody Two Shoes or anything, but my husband and I just don't use curse words in our house. In my mind, I thought "well, I don't know where he got that, but he used it correctly!" What came out was actually, "Excuse me!?" He jumped guiltily. "What did you say?" I asked incredulously. Head down, he quietly mumbled, "A bad word." He's probably lucky I wasn't fully awake, and couldn't yet build up a head of steam, so all he got by way of lecture was a calm, "Well, don't use that word again." His shoulders sagged in evident relief as he readily agreed. And to my knowledge, he never has...yet!

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