Saturday, July 11, 2009

The H Word

Kid swears. He's picked up "damn" from Indiana Jones, and he and his little cabal mutter it under their breath when they drop crackers on the floor, break a pencil tip, or miss the sink when spitting toothpaste. I've decided neither to crack the hell up nor to overtly comment on it one way or the other and hope the thing clears itself up before school starts. Speaking of hell, Kid has also learned--probably from one of those damed 7-year-olds--that there is a swear word that starts with the letter "h," and he is trying like anything to figure out what it could possibly be.

Laur, halibabby.
That's not it, Lief.
That's "hasenpfeffer," and no, that's not it.
Cute, but no. Drop it.
Hoochalordy. Hink. Horrible-toilet-tongue-sandwich.

He got up in the middle of last night, stumbled into our room and pronounced "Halibut." As I scooted him back down the hallway, his eyes only half open and the rest of him almost completely asleep, he kept trying. "Hello. Helium. Hi. Huge. Henry."

"Go the hell to sleep," I whispered lovingly, as he drifted back to dreamland.

1 comment:

  1. When May was 2, she pulled out a cardboard box and made a stage. She tap danced to an original composition whose only lyric was the S word, over and over. I looked up from my nursing stupor with a sleepy 6 month old baby in my arms and asked her what she was saying. "Shit," was the reply. Then she broke into song and dance again, "shitshitshitshitshit-shshshshshsh-shit."

    I think I said something like, "That's nice," in an attempt not to sound too shocked. Plus, I knew she had heard it from me and I was hoping it would just go away. It did.