The other day I mentioned that Felix was cultivating his 4-letter vocabulary (https://larva225.wordpress.com/2016/04/04/green-eggs-and-damn/). I was hoping this was a one-day, flash in the pan thing. It was not.
Yesterday morning while getting the kids ready for school, I heard “dammit” at least 4 times. Leaving, mangos, gears, and shoes all required a “dammit.” You can ignore “dammit” once. You can almost convince yourself that that is not what your cherub is actually saying. Meanwhile, you’re thanking whatever deity or stellar object that “dammit” is the extent of it. “More mangos dammit Mama” could just as easily be “More shitty mangos Mama.” Or worse.
Feeling the need to declare myself not a shitty parent (dammit), I went on the Facebook and publicly apologized for my son’s potty mouth on the off-chance that he would casually offend someone while looking for “water dammit” or “dammit blocks.” I received a pretty quick response from one of the moms of one of his classmates. Turns out Felix isn’t the only little potty-mouth in the group. That actually makes me feel better. I also now have this fabulous fantasy of dressing them up like wee little sailors aboard the SS Dammit.
A short while later, one of the directors of the dude’s playschool mentioned that the dammiting had reached the playground. Dammit. All I could do was express chagrin. To her credit, she said she had to walk away before giggling out loud. Dammit is not the worst they’ve heard up there, I’m sure.