This is how I discovered that my most common cussword is 'dumbass':
Recently at the dinner table while Kent and I talked and Tallulah stared off into space thinking her private thoughts (which I always assume are "Candy. Great big lollipops with the swirly colors all twirled in, purple gummi bears with pink spots....), Tallulah started to whisper "Du...dum...dummie...dumb...dumbass.." then loudly, triumphantly, "Dumbass!"
Forks froze. "Excuse me?"
"Dumbass"
"Where did you hear that?"
"Dumbass"
"Did mom...." "Did Dad..." mutual glaring between the parents.
"Dumbass"
"Ok, ok, that's enough."
"Dumbass." giggle giggle.
Well shit. So we give our patented "hurtful words" speech and spend the rest of the evening hearing about how "somebody else" said dumbass. This is Tallulah's favorite way to get away with bad words. She accuses everyone in the world of saying the word, meanwhile saying the word a few more times.
"Boogey (our dog) called me dumbass! Dumbass Dumbass! He called me Dumbass!"
Musings of Motherhood
About Me
- Kellie Bonifield
- Supporting characters: Kent, husband extraordinaire with, thankfully, a wonderful set of genes including strong cheekbones and the ability to eat anything and stay slim and muscle-y which has been inherited by... Tallulah, a blond curled, angelic looking four and a half year old with a huge smile and penchant for action. She often, to my dismay, demands to be called a princess-- but only if princesses run, jump, climb trees, defend friends from bullies, and are always right. Moxie, the baby. Organized and schedule oriented, Moxie will be recieving a drool-impervious day planner for her first birthday. She is bemused by her sister's antics and often hums herself to sleep.
