What the feck?

7 Apr

Sometimes it makes me sad that my youngest can’t have the sweet naivete my oldest enjoyed.  With two older brothers there is a lot of fun to be found, a lot of frustration at being the youngest, and there are bound to be things Matt is exposed to much earlier than first and only children are.  My two oldest are good kids, but I am not so foolish as to think there aren’t things being discussed I would rather not have a grade-schooler hear.  Lord knows I’ve threatened them.  They and their friends have been shown the pink Celine Dion concert t-shirts I’ve found, which I will happily order for mandatory wearing should I get wind of any inappropriate language being used.

I had called Matt in from the front yard because there were vague rumors stirring……

Matt came in and slammed the front door behind him. “Ri’s a liar.”

Good start.

“Ri lies.  And I did not say what he said I said.  That’s it, Ri’s a liar, and now I’m grounded.  Great.  Fine.  I’ll be in my room forever, and I won’t be able to play with my friends because it’s supposed to rain all next week and get cold, and we won’t be able to play those days, and you’ll say we have to go outside to play but we won’t be able to play outside because it’ll be too muddy.  And all because of stupid Ri the liar.”

I’m tempted to add, “and then we will all die a horrible death.  The end. ” Matt’s tirade would be comical if it weren’t so heartfelt, if he wasn’t convincing himself of every word as he said it.

“Matt–“

“Ri lies!”

“Matt–“

“All I said was I told Patrick to get off my bucking swing.”

This isn’t surprising, because the week before he had exclaimed, “What the feck?”  Over a questionable call in a neighborhood football game.

“Huh.”

“I said BUCKING swing!  I didn’t say anything bad.  BUCKING isn’t a bad word, but Ri lied and now I’m grounded.”

“Your bucking swing?”

“Yes, it’s MY swing, and Patrick was on it for ten minutes, and I told him to get off and he wouldn’t.”

“Sweetie, I don’t want you to say “bucking.”

“But it’s not a bad word!”

“It sounds close enough, and the way you are using it is the same way you’d use a bad word, and that’s the point.  I don’t want to hear it again.”

“So I can’t say bucking?”

“No. And you know what?  Let’s just rule out all the words that end in -uck”

“Great!  That’s just great!  How am I even going to TALK? I can’t say truck, or duck or luck or….. And there!  I said them.  So now I’m grounded.  And I’ll never get to play with my friends again.”  And with this he grounds himself and goes to his room.  Probably forever, where  he will never be able to speak or play ever again.  And where he might die a horrible death. The end.

What the feck?

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