My tiny toddler loves to say the word "poop". I have no idea why. Well, no idea why other than the fact that he is a 2 year old boy. He says it all the time now- adds it in to songs we sing, tells me he wants it for breakfast...
The POOP on the bus goes round and round, round and round, round and round....
The Daddy on the bus goes POOP POOP POOP...
"What would you like for breakfast, Mishka?" "POOP MAMA! POOP!"
It could be worse, I guess. While my big five year old never really jumped on the "poop" bandwagon he did choose the perfect moment to share another new word. When he was three years old my sweet husband and I took our then three year old on a weekend trip to New York City with my sister and her young daughter. It was the weekend before Christmas and the city was beautiful. We walked through Times Square, we watched ice skaters in Rockefeller Center, we visited the toy soldiers at F.A.O. Schwartz and watched the horses pull their elaborate carriages through Central Park. The entire weekend glittered with twinkly Christmas lights and sparkly snow. Holidays in New York City, right?
We didn't even mind the long, (OMG long) taxi line at Penn Station. Well, at first we didn't mind. Eventually, after what felt like hours of the line not moving, we hopped into a black car. (I don't know what they are called- the private black cars that really only cost a little more than a taxi and are so much easier to track down in a tourist laden city.) We all pile in, my sweet little cherubic son, my older sister, my impressionable niece... And one of us says something like, "Wow, it was certainly hard to get a taxi out there!" To which my three year old responded by sharing a word we didn't even know he knew. "F*#*ing taxi's!"
I have to say, I was a little proud. At least he used it the right way...
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