Note from the author: If you arrived at my blog via an Internet search for “double ds,” you are going to be seriously disappointed. This is not that kind of post, or that kind of blog. I’m sure the next item in the results list is more to your liking. Best of luck to you!
Having children is a lot like putting your deepest, darkest secrets on the front page of the newspaper. Or 60 Minutes. Because, sooner or later, your kids will out you with whatever it is you’d rather no one know. If you’re lucky, it’s pretty innocuous or done in front of someone who’s kind enough to pretend not to hear. If not …
I have a little confession to make. I have quite the potty mouth. It’s one of the things Honey least likes about me and he’s really encouraged me to change my ways since the addition of child No. 3, aka The Sponge. In the past year or so, I’ve really worked at cleaning up my language. Part of it is due to that cute little Bitsy thing of mine, but also because someone made a comment that really stuck with me about cussing showing a lack of vocabulary (I’m paraphrasing — it was much more eloquent originally).
I’ve done fairly well but I’m not perfect. Most recently I blurted out The Mother of All Curse Words upon learning something shocking. My daughter promptly asked for clarification (I cut her off before she could say it and told her how wrong it was of Mommy to use that word).
Unfortunately for me, she opted to use Mommy’s two favorite words while she was playing last night. Yes, the dread Double Ds: dammit and dumbass.
She couldn’t just say them each once and let us wonder if we misunderstood. No, she had to make a song with them, a little girlie chant that made it clear she heard these words regularly. For about FIVE MINUTES.
Joshua and I tried to hide our faces since we were laughing so hard. Honey, on the other hand, gave me The Look, the one that says, “You are SO busted.”
Because I was.