Loves to Laugh
My boys all enjoy a good joke. They are particularly enamored with any joke that has to do with bodily functions and/or newly discovered words.
Last night, we had a little shooting contest in the backyard. I don't quite shoot like I used to unless I get warmed up first. So, unfortunately, as it was a speed-shooting contest, I let fly with S**t when I missed a shot. The word simply slipped out, but it actually slipped out twice. Unfortunately, Sam, my 7-year-old picked up on it. When he missed his next shot, yep, he let fly with s**t.
This greatly amused my other two sons, of course, and while I scolded Sam, I did it with a smile on my face. Moments later, he missed again, and stated very matter-of-factly that 'missing' was starting to really p**s him off.
I stopped the game and asked him to clean up his act.
It reminded me of being young and having a brother who liked to swear. Jim was always letting loose with one curse word after another. It came to a head when a substitute priest came to the door asking for my mother. The priest couldn't quite remember my mother's name so he asked Jim what her name was. "Mom," Jim said. "No", the priest tried, "What does your father call her?"
"Son-of-a-b**ch," Was Jim's answer.
I may relay the story to the boys tonight, but then again, perhaps I shouldn't give them any ideas.
Last night, we had a little shooting contest in the backyard. I don't quite shoot like I used to unless I get warmed up first. So, unfortunately, as it was a speed-shooting contest, I let fly with S**t when I missed a shot. The word simply slipped out, but it actually slipped out twice. Unfortunately, Sam, my 7-year-old picked up on it. When he missed his next shot, yep, he let fly with s**t.
This greatly amused my other two sons, of course, and while I scolded Sam, I did it with a smile on my face. Moments later, he missed again, and stated very matter-of-factly that 'missing' was starting to really p**s him off.
I stopped the game and asked him to clean up his act.
It reminded me of being young and having a brother who liked to swear. Jim was always letting loose with one curse word after another. It came to a head when a substitute priest came to the door asking for my mother. The priest couldn't quite remember my mother's name so he asked Jim what her name was. "Mom," Jim said. "No", the priest tried, "What does your father call her?"
"Son-of-a-b**ch," Was Jim's answer.
I may relay the story to the boys tonight, but then again, perhaps I shouldn't give them any ideas.
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