Around the same time that each one of my kids requires a potty chair they gain the gift of profanity. Now the hubbs and I are no saints. We won't feign innocence. We know precisely where they pick up their shiny little obsenity gems. From us.
We are closet cuss connaisseurs. We pepper our daily language with swears words both common and refined. We revel in outdoing one another in abstract uses. A favorite is the combo-curse. Combining two different swear words into one. New, impressive and, possibly, with its own definition.
It's fun and entertaining, until you hear it echoed back to you from the mouth of your 3 year old...on a busy Saturday...at the top of his lungs...in the middle of Target's Food Court...while shopping with your new, very Christian, friend. Oops.
At least he used it in the correct context. His father will be so proud.
Cute little curser.
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