Yesterday, I wrote about my daughter calling her younger brother an, “old bitch.”
And here I was thinking that was the topper to my day. Nope.
After work, I picked my youngest up from preschool. We headed to the store to buy a gift for a birthday party we were headed to. He proceeded to go limp in the entry of the store – angry that I would not let him ride the coin-operated truck in the entrance. (Evil, non-children-having people put those there, by the way. The same people who put candy and small toys at the checkout line.)
As he worked his “Civil Disobedience” tactics, laying prone on the floor like a 40 pound sack of jello, I began receiving the looks. Other customers attempted to walk past me and my writhing child as I scolded him for his inappropriate behavior. I only tell you this detail, so you can fully understand my evening better.
Once we made it to the birthday party (which we nearly did not go to after that ugly display – he did say sorry, though) my three-year old boy sat in my lap, quietly enjoying the birthday party – preparing for pizza and cake and all the birthday fun. Then, while all the other parents and friends had gathered around – he, very clearly, said at the top of his lungs, “BITCH! BITCH, BITCH, BITCH, BITCH.” He said this all with a smile on his face.
If you have any spare bars of soap floating around your house, send them my way. We’ve got a bad-word habit to break.
What’s the worst word your kiddo has said in a public place?