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Tales of a Two Year Old


Apparently getting your house ready to put on the market it time consuming and stressful.  Who knew?  The last two weeks of afternoons have been spent tidying, cleaning, organizing and then reorganizing.  The house was looking in tip-top shape; and then we had house guests.  I'm hoping to return it to it's former glory in the next twenty-four hours.  Wish me luck.

I thought I would start a new little series I'm calling, "Tales of a Two Year Old" in which I highlight the hilarious, ridiculous and often adorable/infuriating aspects of the Little Lady.  We'll start off with this amusing little story.

Up until this week we could not, for the life of us, get the LL to count past the number three.  It was always one, two, three, two...  Then all of a sudden it was one, two, three, four, five, six, seven!  Huzzah!  What I say does sink into that cute little head of hers!  So the Mr. still hadn't heard this new found skill, so I was prepping her one morning.  And this is what she said.  One, two, three, four, five, fuck.  

Oh, fuck.

I wonder where she learned that from?  Needless to say I was completely unaware how much was sinking in that little head of hers.  It's time to break out the Swear Jar, or the bar of soap or whatever ineffective strategies my parents tried.  Apparently, neither worked very well.
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Comments

  1. AnonymousJuly 22, 2010 at 5:27 PM

    No more R-rated movies I guess. Fuck, those were good movie nights, j/k! I'm blaming the grandparents.

    ReplyDelete

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