Umm… make that potty-mouth training.
The other night we were all sitting at the table eating dinner. Violet got a bit too over-zealous with her tomato juice and dumped the entire cup in her lap. “Wet! Wet! Wet!” she immediately started crying. So we whipped her out of her chair and set her on the floor. She looked down at her cute camo pants, now completely covered in red, and said, “DAMN IT!!”
“Did she just…?”
We tried not to laugh too hysterically while we each denied being the one who taught her such language. I mean, I thought I cursed more creatively than that. But yesterday, while burning dinner, the words “damn it!” just flew out of my mouth. “Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” said Violet. So, yes. I curse like an old man. And the scary thing is, I didn’t even notice I was saying it. Guess we’re really going to have to watch the potty mouth now. Because, although Violet seems to know when a situation merits a good curse, she probably doesn’t get that she shouldn’t use that language in mixed company. Until she can understand that a good satisfying string of expletives is best reserved for driving I-35, we’d better keep it clean.