Today I was sitting at the computer, paying bills (yay, bills!), when Meg came wandering up to me and demanded to "get up." I had tried to sit her in front of a video, sippy cup and blanket in hand, pacifier in mouth, but she obviously wasn't having any of that.
"Meg, go watch your video for five minutes, and I will be right there," I said.
"No, get up." she started to climb into my lap.
"Meg, Mama is paying bills. Your video is much more fun."
"No, get up, DAMMIT."
I stopped. Surely I had misheard her. After all, her pacifier was in her mouth. "Meg, take out the pacifier and say that again" I said. She did, and this time the sentence was clear as a bell. "Get up, dammit." She smiled.
"Meg, we don't say that word," I was trying to say it with a straight face.
"Dammit?" Now she was curious.
"Yes, that word, we don't say that."
"Dammit." Now she was pondering.
"You need to stop saying that."
"Dammit." This time it was a whisper, like she was committing it to memory. She got down and went back to her video.
We are so screwed. Yeah, I know, I shouldn't use that word around Meg either.
I wonder if swearing is still as fun if you spell out the words...