I was lying on my bed, relaxing after work by
listening to classical music while surrounded by candles catching up on my favorite blogs while Boys #2 and #3 play Super Mario Bros. (which they don’t realize stands for “brothers” and just call it “bros”), yelling and bouncing on the bed beside me. Suddenly, The Dog, who is currently on my List (you know the one), came bounding into the room. Now, I had just rigged a very impressive “gate” at the bottom of our stairs that would make any honyock proud to prevent said dog from coming upstairs, which he seems to think is his own personal playground. (And by “playground,” I mean “place where you can pee and poop wherever you want—and also dig with your paws in the toilet.”)
“How did he get up here?” I asked no one in particular.
Boy #3 spoke up. “He got out of his—I almost said ‘shit!’ “
Yes. You read me correctly.
“What?” I asked Boy #3, who I knew from the look on his face knew exactly what the word “shit” meant.
“Why did you almost say that word?” I asked, trying to figure out how this word “accidentally” tumbled out of his four-year-old mouth. “What were you trying to say?”
“I was trying to say…I was trying to say…uh…I was trying to say…uh…’CAGE!’ ” he finally stammered.
Hmm… Let’s see… Cage. Shit.
This one’s going to be in the principal’s office BEFORE he even makes it to kindergarten.