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It turns out my second child is showing a propensity for now, too.  Naturally, I have taught him everything he knows, being a self-proclaimed blogger with a love a language, who has only recently learned the difference between “bear” and “bare” as verbs, I fail to take too much comfort in this.

Over the weekend, Pierce and Michael were in the kid room and I was running through the DVR looking for something that they could watch.  I can’t exactly remember why Pierce was irritated, or at least feigning irritation, but I can hear him growling about something in half tot-speak, half-understandable words.  Unfortunately I heard quite clearly in his most gravelly, manly voice “Damn it!”  I think it had something to do with not picking the tv show he wanted to watch. 

I tried to pretend that it didn’t register—actually I tried to deny it to myself, until Mikey pipes up, “Mommy!  Pierce just said a bad word!”  Quickly, I spin around with my index finger to my lips, hissing through my teeth “Ix-nay on the calling your brother out-ay!”  I discreetly tried to explain that if we acted like it didn’t happen, he may not realize what he said and proceed to say a million more times for effect.  It worked…so far we are safe—he doesn’t know that we know.  Mikey, however, had to bring it up to me again.  It went something like this:  “Mommy, Pierce said a bad word the other day.  He said the “d” one that goes d-duh-a-am-it.”  I swear—oops, I mean—by gosh!  The kid will find any way possible to use a naughty word so that it isn’t in context.

Then a few days ago, I was driving home from the bank and Pierce and I saw a bright yellow sport truck—well…P. did—I know this because he yelled out “Lello Fuck!”  Not sure how long I can ignore this one, since there are a lot of trucks on the road…

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