NOTE: If you're offended by profanity, you won't want to read this post any further. Or hang out with my toddler anytime soon.
"Nora," my husband said to our daughter as we were driving on I-40 on the way to a holiday party, "would you like some juice?"
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"No," she said emphatically, her mouth crammed with Goldfish crackers.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
The reply: "Goddammit, dada, I don't want any juice!"
She was silent for a beat (and we were keeping our eyes on the road and trying our best not to react) and then went back to happy babbling. We were silent for much longer, mainly because any attempt to speak would have resulted in great big belly laughs.
Maybe it's terrible, but we're just the kind of people who think it's kind of hilarious when a toddler lets loose with a curse word. (You can guess where she learned it.) She went through a brief F-bomb phase last summer, but that passed pretty quickly and luckily without any calls to social services.
But less hilarious was the next day, when she decided to try out her new word again. And again. And again. We tried ignoring it -- isn't that what all the books say to do? If you make a big deal about it, it just gives the word power, so don't go that route, right? But the more we ignored it, the more she kept at it. So finally we had to gently tell her not to say that word. Which led to tears, even though it was hardly the worst scolding she'd gotten all day, not by far. So a big deal it became.
But she's had a little time to process it, and she seems to have come up with a solution.
Now she looks at us earnestly and says: "Goddammit. Don't say that word."
Sigh. Looks like we all have a new year's resolution to work on.