My kid just screamed “I want cock!” in the middle of a crowded Wal-Mart.
So, yeahhhhh…How was your day?
Before you get all sanctimommy on me for allowing my toddler to spout off expletives, let me rush to my angel-child’s defense. Because it was innocent, really. All she wanted was chalk. Pink chalk. The shelves and shelves of pink chalk that our very busy supercenter had stocked on summer clearance display.
But since little kids have zero knowledge of what a profanity is, nor do they give two shits about what they’re belting at the top of their lungs, she proceeded to whine/shriek “I need pink cock!” for the remainder of the grocery run.
Mortifying, right? (Would it have been better if it were green?)
I actually found it pretty freaking hysterical. Yes, I probably turned 50 shades of red, but only because I was trying to hold in my inappropriate laughter (and pee too, because let’s be honest, aggressive giggles can do a number on this post-three-baby body).
Confession: I’ll always correct my kids when they mispronounce something….buuuuutttt, not until I ask them to repeat it again and get it on video.
Like the time last week when my two-year-old yelled from the other room, “Mommy! There’s titties on TV!”
Pause. There’s what? Did my kids stumble upon some unknown adult programming I’m unaware of? WTF has my husband been ordering?
Kitties. Just kitties. There were no bare bosoms making a hot appearance in my living room at 10:30 a.m. Just a bunch of furry animals, scampering around the screen to the delight of my child.
Still, hilarious for sure.
“Tell Daddy what you saw on TV today!” I said that evening because, clearly, I’m an inappropriate, immature parent.
“Titties!” she exclaimed. Then the only other person over the age of 5 and I snickered like middle schoolers.
This developmental stage when kids are mispronouncing words, expanding vocabularies, saying whatever the hell pops in their heads, is adorable and funny, in a “aww, he just called the elevator an alligator” kind of way. But it’s not always so, shall we say, clean.
Thankfully, I’m not alone in the holy-shit-my-kids-have-potty-mouths club. My friend recently shared that her toddler lovingly refers to her scooter as her “cooter.” Bah! So phrases like, “I’m sitting on my cooter,” or “Wanna ride my cooter?” are particularly hysterical.
Why there seems to be a common thread of genitalia blunders is beyond me. But when your territorial tot yells “That my pus*y!” as her playmate tries to take her Cinderella purse, that’s just plain hilarious. Ok, Donald Trump, simmer tf down.
Now, if you’re a prude and find this offensive then we can’t be friends. Sorry, not sorry. How do you not laugh at this stuff? Maybe it’s tasteless, unbefitting of how a “good mother” acts. But I guess I’m just an inappropriate kind of mom who’s trying to get through the day without losing my shit. K? So sue me if I piss my pants laughing at my offspring going berserk and screaming “A fire fuck! A fire fuck!” as we pass an accident on the side of the highway. (Shit, I’m so going to hell).
In today’s world of extreme political correctness, can’t we sit back and laugh at a little kid pointing to the bras at Target, saying “Mommy, there’s your booby buttons!” It’s funny, people. And we all need a little funny in our lives.
They’re only little once, right? So the next time you have guests over and your son asks for “cop porn” before bed, simply explain that he’s only referring to Orville Redenbacher. You think.
Jennifer Craven believes in wearing white year round, and *gasp* mixing black with brown. Her love of fashion is balanced by her three kids’ desire to be 24/7 nudists. An instructor of fashion merchandising at a small, liberal arts university, Jennifer’s off-color thoughts and opinions are hers alone.