Friday, September 14, 2012
Word of the day: imitate
My husband called me at work today and said very conversationally, "I just got off the phone with the
principal at the little ones' school. You know, he's a really nice guy. Very understanding." Naturally, my radar went off in a big way and prompted me to ask him why exactly he was on the phone with the principal in the first place.
My youngest son and daughter go to before-school care for an hour and a half each morning prior to their actual school day so that I can get to work on time. They normally love the heck out of it, but today there was a boy there who evidently rubbed my son the wrong way, and so they spent the morning bickering back and forth. As luck would have it, that little boy is also in my son's first grade class, so the argument continued between them until my son apparently reached his limit and yelled, "You little asshole!" at this child in front of the rest of his classmates and his horrified teacher.
Hence the phone call from the principal.
Cue the guilt. Cue the lamenting about what a failure I am as a parent. Cue the teetering between total mortification and uncontrollable giggles. I can't even lie...my immediate reaction upon hearing about this was to gasp and then start laughing hysterically, to the extent that my husband thought I was crying. I know where this boy learned that word, and it was not from his daddy as he told the principal. It was from his mommy. Bad mommy. BAD MOMMY.
So, hubby and I agreed to hold each other accountable for our language, and I came home to a very somber, teary-eyed little boy sitting in his room waiting for me to talk with him about his actions. I put on my stern face and marched into his room and completely lost my composure when I saw him sitting cross-legged on the floor, clearly upset, wearing his sister's frilly pink sleep mask that is edged in lace and says "Me Time" across the front in scrolling cursive letters. How am I not supposed to laugh at him hiding his shame behind such a ridiculous cover? I had to leave the room for a few minutes and remember that I was supposed to be really, really mad at him.
Thankfully, he had removed the mask when I came back in and we talked, and I could tell he felt very sorry for what he had done. I wish I could tell you that this is the end of the story, but I have no doubt that we will encounter something like this with him again in the future. I also wish I could tell you that this is the first time he has sworn in public, but it's not. When he was four, he dropped the f-bomb at church. That was fun.
At least I know he learned that word from his dad, so I don't have to feel guilty for that one. Today, I take full responsibility for his slip of the tongue, and I am fully prepared to holster any future swears that want to come out of my mouth.
Peace out, motherf***ers.
(Just needed to get that last one out)
Posted by Carri at 6:53 PM