It's Not What You Say, It's How You Say it

Buddy is going through a phase that I've heard many a parent lament about...the dreaded potty talk. Everything equates to poo. EVERYTHING! We cannot eat a meal without it being compared to poo. His brother is now known as poo poo head.....it's nauseating. Apparently no amount of time outs or threats are working to combat this poo phenomenon and it's making Super Husband and I crazy.

Anyway, yesterday we went to a birthday party and all was well. The day was finally drawing to a close and we were driving along the highway to get home. Both kidlets were happily chattering in the back. Little Man suddenly starts yelling, "Fuck, Fuck"! As in perfectly enunciated....clear as day. Super Husband just about loses control of the car when I turn around and realize that Little Man is pointing to the 18 wheeler beside us. Thank GOD....he means TRUCK! So the remaining ride home goes something like this:

Me: It's TRuck...T...T...T...R-U-C-K. Can you say TRRRUUUCK?
Little Man: Fuck
Buddy: Poo Poo Head!
Me: Try Again. TRRRRRUCK.
Little Man: Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Me: T. Say T! T-T-T-T....
Buddy: Poo...Poo....Poo Bum!

Seriously. If the ride was being recorded I'm sure it would secure us as a top contender for parents of the year.

And let's face it. It's useless to give Buddy crap for talking poo when his brother is dropping the F-Bomb left, right and center.

Oh well. Today is a brand new day, right?