Watch whatcha say!

It was because of my father that from the ages of seven to fifteen, I thought that my name was Jesus Christ and my brother, Russell, thought that his name was Dammit. "Dammit, will you stop all that noise?" And, "Jesus Christ, sit down!" One day, I'm out playing in the rain, and my father yelled, "Dammit will you get back in here!" I said, "Dad, I'm Jesus Christ!" - Bill Cosby

The other day, I was listening to a comedian talk about kids and how they have a timed release repeat button. He said to watch what you say, because your kid may not repeat you immediately, but you will hear those words next week. This has proved to be true in our household with Koko Bean. She is officially our little parrot. For example, when Daddy was playing his video game, she finished his sentence when he said, "son of a ..."

It's not like we are a couple of potty mouth parents, but occasionally an expletive will float out of one of our mouths. This afternoon, our puppy Flex, pooped on the floor. When Koko Bean was observing me cleaning it up, she said, "that damned dog!" It took me by surprise so I asked her to repeat it, thinking and hoping she said "dumb dog." Nope, it was the other 'D' word.

Then, there are the other things she says that make me feel like we're doing something right. This morning, she woke up in the middle of us. Daddy told her to wake Mommy, so she politely said, "Mommy, wake up." Then, she leaned over, hugged me and said, "I love you." ***I MELTED***

 

I got to spend the whole day with my favorite munchkin today. We sat at watched cartoons, ate yogurt(the kid is a yogurt monster,) and played. When it was time for Koko Bean to have some cuddle time, she beckoned me over to the recliner, where she was sitting, eating her Cheez-its. She said, "Mommy, come. Sit down with me." With that swet little voice and those big blue eyes, I couldn't resist. I stopped what I was doing and just sat next to her. Granted, she's not good at scooting over, so my hiny was squeezed in there pretty tightly.

One of these days, she's going to quit saying "I wanna hold ya," instead of saying she wants to be held. She's going to say the word yellow correctly. She will also quit holding my hand in the parking lot at the gym when I tell her I'm too scared to cross without her. She may not say she's "sowwy" immediately when she's done something wrong. For now though, I'm holding on to each little part of speech she flubs, each silly sentence she conjures, and each giggle after she politely says, "cuse me" when she belches.