Oh Sh!t

So I don't know when it happened exactly, and I'd like to blame it on residual trauma from a car accident a long time ago, but the bottom line is I know it was me.

I taught my kid to swear.

We noticed it a couple days ago when Appa made a hard stop in the car.  Instead of the usual laughing that we hear from the back seat, we heard our sweet 4.5-year-old exclaim "Oh, ohh, SH!T."

Appa and I whipped our heads toward each other and both knew in an instant that this was my doing.  I am less than the best passenger, and our 2-week vacation that spanned four states (including the very narrow and winding roads of the Oregon coast) featured many a tense car moment for me.

Appa was gallant and tried to convince me that he wasn't actually saying what it sounded like he was saying.  It was sweet of him to blame it on our kid's speech impediment, really.  I love that man.

But no, despite our attempts not to react to the curse, Little Bug has taken to using it whenever we stop suddenly or hit a bump in a road.  And since our entire street is torn up due to construction, the last 2 minutes of every drive sound like we have a sailor in the backseat.

I've tried to replace it with a snappy and fun "Wheeeeee!!  Wheeee!" and I've tried to be stern and tell him that the word isn't a good choice.  I've tried ignoring it and I've tried telling him that I am ignoring it.

But as is always the case with kids, he instinctively knows he's hit the taboo jackpot.  I can't get him to stop and I have no one to blame but myself (and perhaps Blink 182 for helping me develop my own potty mouth in college).

Sigh.  Sh!t.