I have a bad mouth, it's no secret. I swear, I drop F bombs, I say $hit instead of shoot, damn instead of darn, and God instead of gosh. Sometime all of these words can be heard in once sentence in varying combinations. So the following conversation came as no surprise. But God damn, did we laugh.
Saturday morning, Eli crawled in bed to snuggle, and as he did he was reciting a few lines from "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom," by Bill Martin Jr. Chicka chicka boom boom, will there be enough room...
He looked at me and said, "Chicka chicka boom boom?"
I answered, "Will there be enough room?"
He replied, "No."
I said, "There freakin' better be."
At this, he was lost in laughter. Completely giddy and giggly, rolling on the down comforter laughing. He made me do it again. And again. In return, I made him promise never to repeat it. He complied.
Fast forward 10 hours, we're all eating take-out around the coffee table. Emma, my 17 year old daughter, says to me, "Did you do something with Chicka Chicka Boom Boom with Eli?" in a tone that indicated this was a rhetorical question.
"Um, yeah..." I answered reluctantly. "Why?"
"Because today in Wegmans, he repeated it." She wasn't amused.
"Well I didn't swear, I said 'freakin'!"
"Yeah, well HE did!!!" she exclaimed, disgusted with me. Again.
I looked at Eli and said, "Eli, I didn't say the F word this morning! Why would you say that in Wegmans???"
"What F word?" he asked. "Do you mean F...A...K...N?"
I thought about it for a second and looked at Emma, who was laughing discreetly into her napkin. I looked at Tim who was cutting his steak, pressing his lips together while holding his breath. We all knew what the kid was spelling.
"Yes Eli, that's the one." I guess I need to watch my fakn mouth.
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Saturday morning, Eli crawled in bed to snuggle, and as he did he was reciting a few lines from "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom," by Bill Martin Jr. Chicka chicka boom boom, will there be enough room...
He looked at me and said, "Chicka chicka boom boom?"
I answered, "Will there be enough room?"
He replied, "No."
I said, "There freakin' better be."
At this, he was lost in laughter. Completely giddy and giggly, rolling on the down comforter laughing. He made me do it again. And again. In return, I made him promise never to repeat it. He complied.
Fast forward 10 hours, we're all eating take-out around the coffee table. Emma, my 17 year old daughter, says to me, "Did you do something with Chicka Chicka Boom Boom with Eli?" in a tone that indicated this was a rhetorical question.
"Um, yeah..." I answered reluctantly. "Why?"
"Because today in Wegmans, he repeated it." She wasn't amused.
"Well I didn't swear, I said 'freakin'!"
"Yeah, well HE did!!!" she exclaimed, disgusted with me. Again.
I looked at Eli and said, "Eli, I didn't say the F word this morning! Why would you say that in Wegmans???"
"What F word?" he asked. "Do you mean F...A...K...N?"
I thought about it for a second and looked at Emma, who was laughing discreetly into her napkin. I looked at Tim who was cutting his steak, pressing his lips together while holding his breath. We all knew what the kid was spelling.
"Yes Eli, that's the one." I guess I need to watch my fakn mouth.
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