Tyler Grace-isms And F-Bombs

So this post is about this picture and what TG had to say about it tonight. It's the background on my laptop and this conversation ensued:

 

TG: "That's me!" Pointing to the screen.

Me: "Yup, sure is. That was your first beach trip."

TG: "I ate sand! Look at that baby booby holder!!" (her swimsuit top)

Me: (Deep breath momma, you're gonna make it. Remember this is coming from the kid that's eating stickers on the couch right now. Literally consuming stickers. Will it make her sick? I don't know, but it's keeping her quiet.)

 

Baby Booby Holder? Really, kid? I get that we all have different words for things. Never forget that a microwave is called a Popty Ping in Wales. Google that shit. You're welcome. You've been calling it the wrong thing your whole life. "Fetch me that popcorn out of the Popty Ping would ya, honey?" I could get used to that. Baby Booby Holder is the worst we're working with currently but she hasn't always had a nice mouth. 

Example 1.  She was 2ish. We ventured out alone to Publix. Awesome, just like a fucking European spa vacation... not. After struggling through Publix with a toddler, we get to the checkout. At this age, she's pretty easy to understand. The bag boy, who couldn't have been older than 16 had the worst case of acne I've ever seen. On his face, down his neck and onto his chest. No big deal, carry on then. Yeah... nope, not TG. 

TG: "Mommy, look at his boo-boos. He has boo-boos!"

Me: "Oh my dear Lord child, please shut up."

Me: To the poor bag boy: "Please, bag faster."

Watching his face fall, I knew that my child had just said something hurtful to another person and I witnessed it firsthand. Kill me, kill me now. Please. #thatmomentyouwanttodie

Example 2.  An especially proud moment for me, my child used the dreaded "F" word for the first time, in front of my mother, 2 points for TG. Sitting in Target, after surviving shopping, we sit down for pizza. Beside us is a young Indian couple with their two young sons. My mother brings pizza and sits it down in front of my child...

TG: "Fucking pizza!"

Me: "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

TG: Pointing at the pizza. "Mommy, fucking pizza!"

Now comes the teaching moment. My time to shine. She's two. I can't say "don't say the 'F' word," she doesn't know how to spell, she'll have no idea what I'm talking about. So...

Me: "TG, you can't say 'fucking.'"

My Mother: "CATHERINE!!"

Me: "What, woman? How else would I explain this to a two year old?"

TG: "Why?"

Me: "Because 'fucking' is a grown up word that you can't say until you're older."

My Mother: "CATHERINE!!"

Me: "Shut it, woman. I'm doing the best I can."

TG: "Ok, Mommy."

I look over to see the young Indian couple mortified by my child's foul mouth. Welp... #thatmomentwhenyoumakesomeonehateamerica

 

Then in the car on the way home as my mother lectures me on my "teaching methods," I can't help but be a little torn. Am I mad that I allowed my child to hear such foul language enough that she used it herself? Or I am proud that she used it in the correct context just like her Mommy would? For the sake of humor and my sanity, I'll go with the latter.