Last night, D, Littleman and I were sitting at the table finishing up our dinner. Littleman had been chattering away as D and I talked about something (I have no recollection of what). All of a sudden, this happened:
D: Pardon, buddy?
D (glancing at me): What did you say?
L: Shit means poo!
At this point, I excused myself from the table, grabbed a tissue and proceed to pretend I was blowing my nose so that Littleman wouldn’t see my laughter. D did an amazing job of holding himself together long enough to change the subject and distract Littleman with something else.
Where the hell did he learn that? It must be from some kid at daycare because – even if we’ve accidentally let the word slip around him (which I’m certain that we have) – there is no way we’ve ever explained to him what it means.
I knew that the day would eventually come that we would have to address swear words with Littleman but I was not expecting it to come so soon. I guess I need to do some studying about how to properly handle this sort of thing. He seemed to forget about it quickly but I’m sure that wasn’t the last time we’ll hear the word.
And speaking of crazy shit, someone gave me a seat on the subway yesterday. Yep, a stranger officially noticed my belly and let me sit down. Guess it’s almost time to admit this pregnancy out loud.