Category Archives: kids with potty mouth

I Suspect the Kids Might Actually Be Doing These Things On Purpose

 

Probably the last thing I'll ever see.

Sometimes I get the unnerving feeling that my kids are out to get me.

Not the usual my kids are sucking the marrow from my bones and I have not one iota of energy or sense of self left to keep me alive type of getting me.

This is malice aforethought.

I’ll site you some random examples from the last few days.

1) When a pollster for Adrian Fenty arrived at my door to ask me if he could count on my support during the upcoming election, I felt a gentle shove from behind pushing me over the threshold onto the front porch. Then I heard the distinct dreaded sound of the door locking behind me. No matter how hard I smashed on the windows or how loud I screamed, I wasn’t getting in.

2) They spent the better part of an hour-long road trip  throwing dangerous projectiles inside the car. Several times I thought they had enough velocity to smash out the front windshield. After a dressing down they decided to make the sound of the little boy from The Grudge for the rest of the ride fraying what was left of my two very unstable nerves.

3) My boys were playing whack a mole with bowling pins and various household objects until we refocused them on something less destructive where they sent a small furry stuffed animal back and forth on the floor. Much better right?

Wrong.

They decided this furry mammal was a beaver and kept smashing it with the bowling pins screaming “BEAVER SHOT!” at the top of their lungs. My husband and I were paralyzed with fear unsure if we were being baited or if it really was an innocent mistake.

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You’ve Got Another Thing Coming

Il Duce at the farm. See the weapon?

Yesterday I needed a momentary break from my service to the emperor. Doing his bidding all day every day can really wear on a person so after re-fixing his chocolate milk three times to get it just right and head off that epic screaming fit that we all could have suffered through, I sat down to catch up on some blog reading. I’ve got a list of fantastic mommy bloggers who I follow regularly because, well, I guess we have at least our reproductive abilities in common. God, it’s depressing though. After scrolling through all these upbeat, inventive tales of their funny and sweet children with the love they have for them coming across in every word they type I just got cranky. Especially one gal who posted an angelic pic of her smiling tot with goodness that just emanated from every pore in the child’s body.

Then I look at Il Duce. Every photo I have of him he’s either sneering, giving me the finger or brandishing a weapon. This filthy little animal has ruined nearly every family photo I’ve tried to take in the last two years. Not even his make-believe games come close to normal. Last night I heard him using his Diego plastic marsupials in a jungle adventure, except he kept calling them “sex monkeys” and putting them in jail for kissing. What the fuck does that mean? Don’t even start pointing the finger at me, because the phrase “sex monkeys” has never passed my lips. Even my ten-year old was scandalized.
We got his weirdly inconclusive test results back from the world-renowned three thousand dollars a pop Neuro/Psycho/Edu testing dude and he’s all like “what a funny kid! He’s super smart but not so good at being told what to do huh?” Yes, super expensive rip off artist, I could have pooled the collective resources of every  idiot who’s ever come in contact with him and come up with a more comprehensive plan of action than scratching my head and suggesting meds if he doesn’t calm down in a few years. Better yet, I’m gonna steal those meds and help myself to a big heap of mother’s little helper during the afternoons when it’s too crazy to deal with here. Okay?
Uggg. So anyway, I’m off to chauffeur Palpatine to his next engagement that takes place right after his school day ends. Let’s hope he’s not suffering from his usual fit of distemper and all goes smoothly. But realistically, probably not.

He got along REALLY well with the goats. Must be the horns.

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The Rise and Fall of Il Duce

You just wait until I can talk.

You just wait until I can talk.

 

No, no, no, not again…….

After a particularly grueling evening of bed time shenanigans all I needed was one incident free day to recharge my batteries but alas, it was not to be. No sooner had I dropped my youngest into his classroom than I was dragged into a conference room to discuss the “options” we were considering for kindergarten next year.  Suggestions, including several schools for the criminally insane, were offered up to help steer us in the right direction. They were trying to make it as clear as possible that my kid was not cut out for traditional education. I sat quietly and listened again to some of the same things I’ve heard for years.  Too active, contrarian, bad temper, bad language, threatening to kill anyone who annoys or doesn’t listen to him, blah, blah, blah, blah. Our family have lived  life under fascist rule for four years now, these guys can’t even handle two months of oppressive dictatorship- man up people!

Honestly guys, I get it. He’s either a hopeless sociopath heading for an epic crime spree or to a third world country where he can stage a coup and rule with an iron fist for fifty years. Sheesh, give a parent some hope would you?

What about his bizarre sense of humor? Or his infectious laugh? The fact that he is wonderfully smart and loves hugs and kisses, that’s got to count for something.  He feels things far more deeply than my other two and is adept at noticing even the slightest change in your mood. Too bad most of his good qualities are lost on most people who meet him. He’s difficult and sometimes impossible to teach so I will obligingly see another in what promises to be a long line of psychological professionals and who knows? Maybe someone out there has an answer  or even an effective method. It sure can’t hurt to try.

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Filed under difficult child, difficult kids, foul language in preschool, giving up, kids and parenting, kids with potty mouth, kindergarten options

F is For Fun!

Here’s a question for you. What do you do if one of your kids suffers from a chronic case of potty mouth? Soap? Time out? Throw your shoe in a fit of rage? I’ve gotten past the point where I pretend to be aghast and make a spectacular attempt at show parenting. “My heavens”! I would exclaim with mock surprise. Then I would shake my head and commiserate with the parents witnessing this spectacle.”He must have heard that from Johnny Smith, you KNOW what a filthy mouth that heathen has”. So when I look at things now, sometimes I see them bathed in a new light. The light of someone who’s kid exclaimed last week that “It’s so freaking hot out here, our asses are burning RIGHT OFF!” when the class spent the afternoon on the outdoor playground during a spell of unseasonably warm weather.
Imagine my quandary then, when I read the phonics letter that the fours class will be covering next week. F. Yes, the letter f starts so many wonderful words, fun, frolic, fish, fancy, but I am 100% positive that I already know the word my son will offer up when they go around the circle and ask with naive glee “do YOU know an f word?”

You KNOW I'm going to say it.

You KNOW I'm going to say it.

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