Tag Archives: Frustrating Parent Things

The Pre-Schooler and the Curse Word

Ahh, that blessed moment when our potty-mouths catch up to us and we hear our own words said back to us with the tiny, innocent voices of our babes. It’s distressing, embarrassing but dare I say….. pride inducing??


My daughter Millie has cursed three times (that I’ve heard) and I am proud in that every single one has been contextually-appropriate. Surprisingly, none of those curse words have been the Eff-Word, since that is probably my word of choice in any situation. All of her first swears have been a form of “shit” or “damn.”

A few weeks ago, we were caught in a violent downpour of rain a mile from our house, the two girls in the double stroller. As the water literally poured down on us from the sky, little Millie sat in her side of the City Mini quietly repeating “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” This makes sense. It’s exactly what I would say in that situation and how I would say it.

I have a hard time telling her that she can’t say these words. She’s not saying them to get a laugh from her audience or to rebel against me or “the establishment.” She’s saying it because she’s genuinely frustrated, along with me, at the rain or the lack of diapers or the fact that the pedestrian jumped out in front of my car and I had to slam on my brakes to not hit him. She’s an empathetic little girl and it even shows in her swearing. I’m kind of ok with that. But I’m pretty sure I have a future filled with notes home from her teachers. And probably the principal.

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Baby Poppy’s Big Secret

Baby Poppy has a secret.

How could this face be frustrating? I’ll tell you how…

Yes. That sweet face has a big bad dark secret.


Okay, so it’s not really a secret, but it is one of the most frustrating things about this cute baby. She’s almost ten months old right now, so I know this is the prime time in her life and I know that babies learn about the world around them with their mouths. Blah blah blah, I know all that… but seriously. This kid needs to stop eating everything.*

I cannot put her down and turn my head for even a moment, so heaven forbid that my preschooler needs something. If I do avert my eyes from Poppy’s direction for even a second, I will most definitely find her in the process of eating dirt, dust, crumbs, toys, pebbles, twigs, sand… I sweep and vacuum daily, most of my day is now devoted to floor-cleanliness and she STILL manages to find something that I may have missed. A no-shoes policy in the house doesn’t help… crap from the outer world still seems to find its way into the house.

We headed in the stroller to a local park about a mile away recently. Upon arrival, I went to get her out of the stroller to find her chewing earnestly like a cow chewing the cud. For the six hundreth time that day, I shoved my finger into her mouth to fish out whatever the hell was in there (I certainly hadn’t given her anything) and I pulled out a twig, which must’ve fallen into the stroller during the walk.

Her beloved chew-toy twig.

*You know what the kid WON’T eat? Food.

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