Well, Wash My Mouth Out With Soap!

If you know me well, you know I swear.  Probably too much.  Okay, probably way too much.  I should try a little a lot harder to watch what I say, and be, you know, more lady-like or something like that.  But, I should also exercise more, eat healthier, put more money into savings, and do more charity work.  It just hasn't been on my list of priorities lately, but now I'm thinking it should be.

Up until recently, we haven't really had a problem with Gavin repeating our naughty language.  I mean, there's been a few times I cringed when he repeated something I said, or I crossed my fingers in hopes that he wouldn't go to daycare and say, "Thank you, Black Jesus," but other than that, we've been pretty lucky on the inappropriate language front. 

Until . . .
- A few days ago when the car slid in the snow, and Gavin shouted from the backseat, "Oh, shit!"
- He kicked the dog's butt and said, "Get your ass out of here!"
- He opened the back door and said, "I don't want to go outside; it's f**cking cold out there!"
- He dropped his Poptart on the floor and yelled, "What the hell!"

The worst part about all of these examples is that he wasn't repeating something I said at that moment.  No, these were things I had said days or even weeks ago.  He heard them, and then he stored them away in his little giant head for just the right moment when I would be least expecting them - and expecting them I was not.  In fact, they caught me so off-guard that my first response was to turn my head and laugh.  And, we all know what happens when you laugh . . . "Oh, shit!  Oh, shit!  Oh, shit!" for the next twenty minutes.  Like everything else children do, it's funny until it's not. 

So, I guess I'll be moving the "watch what you say around your kid" priority a little further up the old to-do list . . . and pretty damn quick.  Oops.