The F-Bomb

My beloved daughter, who always gives the most gracious gifts, and surprises, (and who I might add is somewhat precocious ~ not that I know where she would get that from) laid one on us today.

From the title, you can surmise the nature of said surprise.

I was at my mother's house, sitting at her desk, checking my email. Mom was sitting on the bed next to me, doing something or other. The kids were playing (nicely, for once, I might add) on the floor.

All of a sudden, Eden said, "Well, that's f@#king different Connor". Or some such sentence. You can gather which word I focused on, and not paying attention to much else.

Now, I will admit that I am pretty lax about many things. I really don't care who says what words, it would take a lot more than that to offend me.

However, I am not keen on my four year old laying the f-bomb out quite so cavalierly.

Trying not to crack up laughing (which was fairly easy, after all, I just had to look at the abhorred look on my mother's face), I calmly sat her down, asked her where she heard the word, and explained that such a word can make people sad, and please don't say it again.

Once she realized I wasn't angry, she was happy enough to drop it from her vocabulary.

When she's 16 we can have a right laugh over it. (Just don't tell my mother).

Here's the potty-mouth. She looks so innocent, doesn't she?