Beer & Diapers

Memoirs of a millennial dad

Potty Mouth

This week I had one of the most embarrassing moments so far as a parent. You see, I’ve yet to teach my son how to use the potty, but I’ve helped him develop a potty mouth.

The two of us were on our way to daycare when I pointed out a fire truck going the other way.

“Look Daniel, do you see the fire truck?”

“Fire Truck!” Daniel replied happily. Then without warning, my little red-headed cherub dropped the F-bomb.

” Fire F@#k!” Daniel continued, completely unaware of how horrified his father was.

I know I’m to blame. Kate and I had invited the family over to our place for a Labor Day barbecue, and we were both stressed trying to get the house in perfect order before dinner. One of my jobs was to get the bathroom in perfect order, which included swapping out the well-worn toilet seat.

Since it was old and loose, I figured I needed maybe 10 minutes to get it off. Thirty minutes later, I was still kneeling on the bathroom floor, yanking on a bolt that had rusted so badly it wouldn’t budge no matter how much WD-40 I applied.

With time running out and the in-laws on their way, I called the toilet a number of choice words. Kate was pretty horrified, but I hoped that Daniel hadn’t overheard any of my tirades. Unfortunately, I was wrong.

Too bad Daniel isn’t a little bit older, or I could play off that he learned the bad word from his cellmates, err classmates, at daycare. But this time I have to own it. The good news is Kate has started Daniel to say “God bless you” whenever he gets frustrated. It’s so cute to watch him get mad at his toys and say stuff like “God bless you Thomas!”

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