Potty Mouth

Since having kids, I have tried really hard to curb my potty mouth.  I can curse like the best of them, and most of the time I don't even realize it.  So I make a conscious effort, and I am usually successful.  There are two general exceptions:

1) Road rage - If someone cuts me off, or stops short, or otherwise does something idiotic on the road, I can't help but blurt out:  "Asshole!"  Yes, I'm aware that the other driver can't hear me - only my children can.  I am working on this, though I cannot say the same for my husband.  So far, Braden hasn't picked up this term.  Perhaps because he is so engrossed with looking for trucks, backhoes, and sirens, or the fact that the country music station is probably turned up a bit too loud.

2) Diaper changing incidents - Just last week, I took Casey into his room to change his diaper, with Braden following close behind.  I opened up the diaper to find a yucky, runny surprise.  Casey was wriggling about, reaching down with his hands, and was just a few moments away from reaching down and rubbing it all over his face (yes, this has happened before).  I quickly reached for the wipes, only to realize there were none left.  What else was there to do than emphatically yell: "Fuck!"  I mean, would anyone have reacted differently?  This time, Braden caught on, and began dancing about and repeating after me.  I tried to save myself - "Braden, Casey's diaper is stuck.  It's stuck!"  So far, he hasn't repeated it again.

Instead of latching onto my curse words, Braden has developed his own toddler version of potty mouth.  I suppose with potty training this is inevitable.  Because somehow, if you add the word "poop" to any sentence or song, it is hysterical.  Like, drop on the floor laughing hysterical.  So if he were to sing:


"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the poop!"

Or "Old McDonald had a poop!"

Or "I've got a feeling (hoo hoo), that tonight's gonna be a good poop!"

He would crack himself up so much you couldn't help but join in.  He also has a dance that is entitled "Stink-er-ony," that he sometimes performs in conjunction with these songs.  Enough said.

With Braden going back to school in just two weeks, I've started to worry about him blurting out his passion for poop in an unacceptable manner.  And then perhaps I'll be found out for allowing (okay, sometimes encouraging) his potty mouth.  And then everyone will know and we will be ostracized from our community and will have to eventually move to a more potty mouth accepting society.  Like England.

Yesterday Braden brought his potty humor to a new level.  It was around 7:30 pm, and he was sitting on the couch eating cheerios.  He was naked from the waste down because he had just gone to the bathroom and I had to put him in a pull-up for bed in a few minutes anyway.  Can you guess where this going?

Inevitably, a cheerio fell on his penis.  He blurted out: "There's a cheerio on my penis!"

This time he had an audience - Grandpa, Aunt Rachie, and NanaLou.  The room erupted in laughter.  I tried to discourage it, I really did, but it was contagious and I ended up laughing myself.  There's nothing more reinforcing than laughter, so of course, Braden continued on.  He took another cheerio, placed it accordingly and announced:  "There's a cheerio in my butt!"

Oh jeez.  More laughter.  But this was getting gross, as I think both cheerios ended up in his mouth.  Okay, I know they did.

And then, he one upped himself.  He took a cheerio, and proceeded to stick it in my sister's crotch.  Yes, she was clothed, but still.  Game over.  No more cheerios.

So now I have a vision.  It's snack time at school.  Braden takes his graham cracker and tries to shove it in the underwear of a poor, unsuspecting little girl with pigtails.  When she resists, he yells:  "Asshole!"  When the teacher in turn takes the graham cracker away, he responds with:  "Fuck!"  He will then go to time out where he will sing "Twinkle twinkle little poop" and do his stink-er-ony dance to pass the time.  

That's my boy.