I do not swear. In general. Though I have a love of the phrase "rat bastards" and occasionally enjoy taking the lord's name in vain by proclaiming "JESUSMARYANDJOSEPH" with a slight Irish lilt when shocked or amazed or trying to cheer myself up. So it was with great surprise, dismay and maybe even a tinge of misplaced pride that I overheard Shawn Joaquin in the kitchen playing and obviously frustrated with his dump truck.
DAMN IT.
Shawn Joaquin, what did you say?
DAMN IT.
Why did you say that?
Because I couldn't put these THINGS in my TRUCK. DAMN IT.
I quickly let him know that he was, so sad to say, mistaken. The phrase is actually DARN IT. He repeated it several times — "DARN IT DARN IT DARN IT" — with a different emphasis each time, and appeared satisfied enough to look up and say "Thanks, Mama."
Thankful to have dodged that bullet, I made my way downstairs to address the issue with Gregg, who was clearly responsible for this new profanity and the slippery slope down which our son was quickly tumbling. As I hit the last step I whacked my big toe on the basket at the bottom and spilled my coffee. "DAMN IT!"
Whoops. Perhaps Gregg doesn't need to know about this latest vocabulary addition after all.
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1 comment:
Damn it, that's funny!
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