The other day as little kid and I were waiting for the bus, he said "Where is that shucking bus?" in frustration. Although it was amusing, I was not impressed and told him that if he ever used that word again I would wash his mouth out with soap.
(We'll have to avoid oyster houses from here on out.)
He was intrigued by that punishment idea and immediately quieted down without arguing (this never happens--there is ALWAYS a counter argument from little kid.)
Today as we waited, he said, "Where is that hell bus?"
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
"Uh, I been meanin' to aks you 'bout somefin, mine mumum. Is hell a bad word?"
"Yes! Knock it off with the bad language."
"What should I say then?"
"Something nice like, 'I wonder where the bus is?' or 'Bubby's bus is taking awfully long today.'"
"I wanted to say somefin different than 'at. Somefin mad--but NOT hell since at's a bad word."
"I guess you could say 'heck' if you really have to be angry about it, but I don't see why you can't just wonder where the bus is."
"I'm wondering where 'at heck bus is right now is what I'm wondering!" He answered.
So, his vocabulary is coming along really nicely and I'm clearly doing a great job as a parent.
He talks 150% of the time, only stopping to make suckling sounds in his sleep in between night time mutterings. Every single morning after we drop Big Kid off, we start our day with the following conversation (or some variation thereof):
"I wanna go to a water park a-day!"
"The water park is closed, it's a school day."
"No, it's Saturday! Why you lie? It's Saturday!"
"I'm not lying, it's not Saturday. The water park is closed on week days and besides, it's 57 degrees out."
"It's sunny! The sun is right there! I cannot bewieve you won't take me to a water park a day!"
"It is closed. The answer is no."
"Can we go to the mall?"
"I wanna go to a mall!"
"I'm sorry. We can't today."
"Take me to baby school. Now!"
"Stop being rude to me. Baby school isn't open. Your teacher isn't even there."
"SHE LIVES THERE!"
"No, she doesn't. She spends 3 hours a week there, only on Monday. Today is not Monday."
"It is Monday! It is too Monday. Mumum, today is Monday."
This usually goes on until I snap and threaten to beat him or turn the radio up ridiculously loud and blatantly ignore him. The other day after we finished the baby school argument, he said, "I wanna go to Bok Bok Bama's house then."
"Barack Obama? You want to go to Barack Obama's house?"
"Yes. Right now."
"Just 'cuz. I wanna see him."
"Well, that would be cool but he's very busy. I'm pretty sure we would need an appointment."
"No, not me! I don't need no pointents, mumum. Do you know where he libs?"
"Where the President lives? Yes, he lives in the White House in Washington D.C."
"Take me there. To his house. I wanna talk to him A DAY!!!"
This led to an entertaining moment where I imagined little kid and I knocking on the White House door and demanding an audience with Barack Obama so little kid could bitch him out about his troubles with the water park and baby school and his brother's shucking bus. But it stopped being entertaining when I had to explain how far away the White House was and how we would have to take an airplane and then defend myself against accusations of lying about not having money for airfare (because he saw $2 in my purse just the other day and didn't even take it from me!).
If the squeaky wheel gets the grease, I think he will grow up to become a man who gets what he wants--if I let him live that long.