Language of the Foul Type

Henry:  Oh sh*t.  I forgot my water bottle.

Me:  Wait…what?

Henry:  Sh*t, I forgot my water bottle.

You should have seen his little seven-year-old, toothless, freckled-up face when he said it.  He totally didn’t have a clue.  On the upside, he is obviously picking up some incidental language somewhere.

We are aiming for the fences around here, folks…aiming for the fences.

Language of the Foul Type

7 thoughts on “Language of the Foul Type

  1. Eh…rite of passage.

    When Littlebit was three (and hardly verbal, really). She was struggling with removing her shirt before her bath. She proceeded to say, as play as day with a voice full of exasperation “I can’t get this da*n shirt off!”

    Well, she couldn’t.

    She was behind the Princess who proclaimed “Da*nit!” when falling down in BIg Daddy’s mom’s yard at about 18 months.

  2. Gotta love the incidental language and the innocence. My Bear once sat back after breakfast and said, “Da*n that was good.” We still have no clue where he heard that… but soooo funny and kinda cute. 🙂

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