Diary of a Stay At Home Dad: Well, he finally said it.

Frank finally did it. My almost 3yr old finally cussed, cursed, was profane, used an expletive, foul language, swore. Twice! And Grammy was visiting when it happened. I would be utterly ashamed if it wasn’t so #%^& funny.

It was obvious too. Clear and direct, there was no mistaking what he said, no chance to interpret it another way. What’s more amazing; he used it in correct context, so there went our chance to explain it away.

The first time he did it we were eating dinner. He finished up and went into the living room to play cars. All of a sudden he dropped a car and said “Oh damn it.” Then he said it again as we snapped our heads around. “Oh damn it.” One more time for good measure, as we’re now choking back or otherwise suppressing laughter. “Oh damn it.”

Grammy’s not getting involved except to exclaim “I didn’t teach him that.” A little to quick on the draw there Grammy. If I didn’t know you I might think you were feeling a little guilty. Tracy follows suit with the “I didn’t do it” chorus. So clearly since I was the last person to speak up it must be my fault. I blame those punk 2yr olds he goes to school with. All five of them. It’s a rough looking bunch, you can smell the bad upbringing all over them.

Of course it’s me. Who the hell else could it be. I admit it, my language is colorful at times. At least he didn’t say the “F” word.

Anyway, now we’re stuck. If Tracy or I make a big deal out of it he’ll just keep saying it. No matter how funny it was/is, I couldn’t risk showing any thing remotely resembling pride or approval. So we did what any good parent would do, we acted like nothing happened. Stuff always gets better if you ignore it, regardless of what Oprah or Dr. Oz says.

So the second time he says it, it’s just me and him. I walk into the room, he’s playing and there is food all over the floor. I look at the mess I will now have to clean up and say Ah Frank! To which he replies “Oh damn it!” in the same exasperated tone I had just used, while he’s looking down at the mess, arms out to the sides, as if to say “Who the hell did that.” He got off one more damn it before I tried to stop him then he got the last one in as I was sitting him down. How am I not supposed to laugh at that. Obi Wan Kenobi couldn’t keep a straight face at that.

So I gave him the old don’t say that, it’s a bad word, smart people don’t use bad language, etc … Well hell, he’s not getting any of that. He’s trying to figure out why I’m being stern and laughing at the same time.

So my kid is a potty mouth, what the &$@$ is it to you.