Cringe-worthy

At some point back in our hazy past, my husband and I were very concerned about Zane's speech, or the lack thereof.   Other people were concerned as well.  The developmental psychologist even mentioned the "A" word to us when he was fifteen months, of all things!  We agonized over whether to request speech therapy through a local intervention group, whether to have him tested when he was three, etc.  And then the boy went to daycare, where he wasn't the only child in the joint, and he hasn't shut up since. 

I have a chatty child. 

He's not obnoxious about it, he just has lots to say.  To EVERYBODY.  He'll say hello, and ask them questions, and smile, and whoever my child has approached will stop and talk to him.  He seems to have a natural friendliness that draws people in.  I can stand back and beam with pride.  Even when the questions he asks are sensitive, such as when he asks the returning veterans that he meets about their missing leg or arm, my son asks in such a way that no one's feelings are hurt and no one is embarrassed.

Except that sometimes my child says things that make me cringe.  Things that make me want a deep hole to open up and swallow me to hide my wince of shame.  Most of what he says, he has heard somewhere.  Kids are sponges when it comes to sucking up random phrases and bad words for later use, which has resulted in my husband and I resorting to some sort of code to converse.  Here are a few of the things that have come out of my boy's mouth:

"Dammit!"  We have no idea where this one came from.  We don't say that; our colorful metaphors are usually more colorful than that.  I usually say "Gosh-darn-it", for example.   My husband and I used to have a pretty healthy vocabulary of curse words, and we made a concerted effort to curtail that habit when we had a child listening to every word.  In the grand scheme of things, "Dammit" is not the worst curse word ever said, and Zane speaks so rapidly that it's easy to miss.  Which works for me; I would definitely have to go to the principal's office to explain that one. 

"Live Action!"  I know exactly where this one came from: Call of the Wildman.  When the Turtleman gets ready to catch an animal, he uses that phrase.  And it is totally appropriate in that context.  It's not so appropriate hollered in the library, given some of the phrase's implications.  Doesn't it say "Live Action" in neon where there are table dancers?   Or is that "Live Nude Girls"?  I never remember.

"I passed gas on you!"  Farts are just plain funny to boys and their daddies.  There's lots of good natured ribbing and giggling over farts in our house, and that's just fine.  However, Zane has told waitresses and doctors and teachers that he's passed gas on them.  Luckily, his articulation is rather mushy at this developmental stage, and nobody has understood him except me.  I've been able to deflect that one over pretty quickly, and while I've gotten a few hard stares(that 'Did your kid just say what I think he said?' look.), the alternative of translating what my child said is not viable.

"I have overactive bladder".  Until I began watching these cartoon shows with Zane, I had NO idea how many drug commercials ran during the shows.  Even when I finally noticed, I tuned them out, because that is what I do with most commercials.  Until Zane spent an entire day telling me that he had to "go" all the time, and how this was a problem.  The boy was sure that he had an overactive bladder, and he needed this Toviaz.  He didn't know what Toviaz was, but he needed it, and he needed to go see a doctor.  We tried to ignore it, but then Zane announced it at Sunday dinner one day, loudly, in the middle of the 410 Diner.  After we explained that Toviaz is for older people, not for kids, Zane moved on to Enbrel(because he had mild to moderate Crohn's disease and/or arthritis), Cymbalta(fibromyalgia), Humira(psoriasis), and Chantix. 

Because five year old boys who watch Legends of Chima have a smoking problem.


5.) Write a list of things your kids have said that that made you cringe.