Here’s how a little conversation went this morning while on our way to the store. While driving, we encountered an individual who’s skills behind the wheel were lacking. I muttered a few choice words at him and called the guy an “idiot”. Pretty tame as far as “bad words” go.
S: Mummy, who’s that guy?
Me: Oh, just a car that wasn’t doing a very good job of driving.
S: What’s his name?
Me: I don’t know his name, just a guy in a car.
S: Is his name Idiot?
Me: Ummmmm, no….mama just…umm…called him a name.
S: Like idiot?
Me: Well, it’s not a nice name.
S: His name is Idiot?
Me: No Sofia, his name isn’t that. I’m not sure what his name is. Mummy shouldn’t have used that word.
S: Is that guy Idiot?
Me: (Sigh) It was just a car that wasn’t driving very well, that’s all.
S: Is Eli Idiot?
Me: No baby. Hey look! Squirrel!
You’d have think I’d have learned my lesson from last week, when she called me out on my language choices.
Me: Dammit, I bought the wrong cheese!
S: Don’t say Dammit Mummy!
What’s funny about this is that I’m very conscious about what I say in front of her. And her father is a little less careful, and yet he NEVER gets corrected or have his words repeated back to him…i guess we should be thankful for small mercies.