After five and a half years, it finally happened. The day I had long been dreading. The moment I knew I would forever have to change my ways, modify my verbiage, my awareness of who is around me. I'm really not surprised at all that it happened, only that it took as long as it did. Now I have to do some monitoring. Of myself. And my three and a half year old.
Yesterday, while washing our hands at the dentist office, Sheridan said the 'F' word.
I must admit, I do have a bit of a potty mouth. I have been known to drop a few 'F' bombs here and there. Though, if I'm going to incriminate myself any further, I should mention that my favorite word is 'ass'.
So Sheridan had the infamous teeth cleaning appointment yesterday, and before we went into the room, she said she had to use the bathroom. I'm not a fan of using public restrooms here, but from previous experience (the week prior), I knew that the worst thing in this bathroom would be the overwhelming smell of mothballs that they keep floating in the sink.
When she was done we washed our hands. Knowing there weren't any towels to dry them, I jokingly told her to shake, shake, shake them. She thought that was funny and started to laugh...
Then she put her head down, shook her head, and said, "Oh, they're 'F'-ing wet."
My ears immediately perked up and I felt my face go flush. Not sure I heard her correctly, I did what any good mother would do, I asked her to repeat herself.
She looked straight at me, shook her head again and said, "Mommy, my hands are 'F'-ing wet."
I had to gain my composure quickly because my first reaction was to laugh. But since I needed to be the parent here, I grabbed her little innocent face in my hand and told her that we don't talk like that, and if I ever heard her say that again, I would wash her mouth out with soap.
Mine would then be next.
At least she used the word correctly in the sentence, right?