…because I’m going out on a limb here. This story is a LIH-tel edgy for me to share. If you are offended easily, you may not want to read any further.
Sether Joe didn’t say a single word until he was almost 18 months old. Why? Seven ear infections in nine months. You do the math. Putting tubes in his ears corrected all of that and within a month, he had 10 words in his vocabulary! Building that vocabulary was difficult for him as he still had a hard time saying many words. But, we learned his language.
One such word that he couldn’t say was truck.
The word he said instead was f***.
That’s right. My toddler was a cusser.
He was fascinated, and still is, with fire trucks. But instead of calling them fire trucks, all we ever heard was, “Wook at dat fire f***! Oh, I wuv fire f***s!”
This happened constantly…in the grocery store, at the park, AT CHURCH. Nice.
Our life group had an AMAZING time with this and would even say, “Seth, say ‘look at that big trucker!'”
And he would follow suit by using his own language and they’d all laugh their heads off. Present company included.
Several weeks back Seth and I were in the car and here came another fire truck. I was so desensitized to his “cussing” that when he exclaimed, “Wook at dat fire truck!”
a little sadness came over me. Our life group was equally disappointed. The fire f*** days were over.
Yes, we are sick. But we have some great fella-she-up.
Did I mention I’m up for Mother of the Year
award? I’m a shoe in.