|Wednesday, Jun. 22, 2005 || "Did he just say what I think he said?"|
Yesterday the kiddos and I went down to the pool for some afternoon sun and fun. The little cuties were playing some kind of game in the pool while I read, one eye on the book, the other on them.
They were playing some kind of game. P@rker coasted over to the stairs, looked over his shoulder at K@ytlin and said, "No sh--, K@ytlin!"
Three pairs of eyes landed on his cherubic face in shock.
"Did he just say what I think he said?" K@ytlin asked, trying not to laugh.
I beckoned him over to me and asked him what he said.
"What?" P@rker replied uncertainly, looking from me to Kay to Nath@n and back again, confused by our gaping stares. "I said, 'don't cheat K@ytlin'", he explained.
"You didn't say a cuss word?"
"No," he replied, as incredulous as we were at the thought that he actually did utter such a thing.
At least I didn't do what my parents did the day my then-7-year-old sister dropped the f-bomb at the dinner table.
"What does f--- mean?" she asked, innocently enough.
"Where did she hear that?" they asked, voices pitched high, eyes trained on me.
"NOT from ME!" I exclaimed.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
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