Potty Mouth

Well, the inevitable has started to happen...Ainsley has started to notice Momma cussin'.

What? Like you wouldn't wear
a Little Mermaid tutu with your
Seahawks chip and dip helmet.

As most of you know, I'm a sailor. I try very hard to keep my cursing to a minimum around the kids, with moderate success. The one I'm less stringent with is "dammit." It's my frustration word of choice. It's also the one that Ainsley has picked up on the most.  A weeks or so ago, she was playing with Xander's busy block thing and it was pissing her off. She slammed one of the little doors on it and said with my exact intonation, "DAMMIT!"

My immediate response was, "Sweetie, that's a grown up word. You don't say that."

She gave me a look and seemed to accept it.

Tonight, I was making grilled cheese for Xander and for some reason a reason I can't recall, I muttered "fuck it" under my breath.

Ainsley: What did you say?

Me: Forget it. (Thaaank you, TBS version of The Breakfast Club.)

Ainsley: Why don't you say "dammit"?"

Me: Because I'm not frustrated. That's a grown-up frustrated word.

Ainsley: Can I say "dammit"?

Me: No. You can say "forget it." But you can't say "dammit" until you can vote. Or until you can drive. No actually, you have to be able to do both. You can then.

Ainsley: Oh, forget it. *walks off*