It was a perfect Saturday afternoon. So perfect that my mother actually complimented my parenting skills.
“Amber, you’re doing a wonderful job with Tori. She’s just as perfect as she can be.”
I beamed at the compliment. “See?” I thought to myself. “You don’t suck at this. Even your mother in law thinks you’re doing a good job.”
Out loud, I said, “Well, you know. She’s a smart kid. We’re just lucky.”
“I know, but she’s doing so good. I can’t believe how much she knows!”
“Yeah, we have to be careful. That little monkey picks things up so fast, we have to watch every word that comes out of our mouths.”
Just then, Tori came tearing around the corner, running smack into my leg.
“Hey there, sweetie. Are you ready for lunch?”
She nodded vigorously.
“What do you want? Macaroni or smoked sausage?’
“Hot shit!” she chirped back at me.
I paled. “Wha-at? You want what?”
“Hot shit, mommy!”
“Tori, we don’t use words like that. They aren’t nice to say.”
“MOM-my, want hot shit!”
Mortified, I sneaked a glance at my mother-in-law. But instead of the expression of horror I expected to see, I could tell she was trying not to laugh.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know where she learned that. It certainly wasn’t from me.”
My husband snorted. “No,” he said. “She’s more likely to learn the F word from you.”
“You’re. Not. Helping.”
My mother in law waved her hand, as if batting the words away.
“Well, what are you going to do?”she said. “This stuff happens.”
Meanwhile, Tori was pulling frantically at my legs. “HOT SHIT, mommy. Want HOT SHIT!”
“Umm. Okay. Sausage it is,” I said.
Wanting the moment to be over, I quickly got her lunch together. When everything was finally cut up into toddler-friendly micro bits, I sat her down at the table and plunked her plate in front of her.
“Here you go, cutie. Sausage and broccoli.”
She nodded. “Hot shit! Thank you, mommy!”
I looked at my husband and sighed. “Looks like that’s her new favorite phrase,” I said.
He shook his head. “I don’t think it means what you think it means. Tori, what’s this?” he asked, pointing at the sausage.
She nodded. “Hot shit!”
He looked at me and we both cracked up.
So, we don’t have a little cusser on our hands. Yet. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.
What’s the worst thing your kids have ever said?