Last night as Jill was preparing dinner and I was entertaining Bo and Joshua in the family room, William was playing by himself in the corner, behind a big chair.
"F*** it", he said. "Aw F*** it"
We were caught off guard and shot each other a questioning glance. A shared, unspoken exchange that, ironically, asked "What the F***????"
Before I could respond Jill unleashed the classic "HEY! WHERE DID YOU HEAR THAT WORD?!" and William's head, all eyes, ears and dimples, poked out from behind the chair."What?" he asked.
We tried to determine where he had learned everyone's favourite go-to phrase. Was it us? No....it's never used. If he'd yelled "Jesus Christ!", or "You C***sucker...", I would have had to shoulder the burden of responsibility. However, I was free and clear on this one. He heard it from Nanny perhaps? There was precedence. But no, he had made a point of explaining when and how the phrase was to be used, so not Nanny. This had been taught, not overheard.
In the end, we just accepted that an older kid at school, or on the bus, had been holding court with the kindergarten kids. We made it very, very clear that this was never to be uttered again. I thought this was the end of it. Silly Daddy.
It was Jill's turn to bathe the boys and herd them into bed. I got to hit the gym. To that end, I am often amazed at the amount of drama that can transpire when I am out of the house for 45 minutes. Somedays it's as if a whole new family moves in, smokes dope, picks a few fights, pees on the floor and then retreats to separate corners for respite. I returned from my workout, feeling fit and relaxed, to learn that William had not given up on the F-word.
As regular readers may have learned, he's a smart little boy with a sharp tongue who can often be as stubborn as a mule. Traits he inherited from his mother (true story). The regular bath time fighting between Bo and William had ensued. Toys were flying, slaps were made, and eventually Bo was screaming (it is ever such). Jill stormed in to lay down some law but William wasn't in the mood for discipline, especially from his mother. In fact, the other day he requested that I throw her off the planet. He glared at Jill, spun in the tub to show her his back, and dropped a perfectly delivered "F*** It".
Now, it is important to note here that Jill is a South African/German mix. I love her with everything I have, but that's not exactly a gene cocktail you want to mess with. There is now in the boys' washroom, and I kid you not, a large bar of Ivory Snow soap with a clear imprint of William's teeth. That's my wife. Old school baby....old school.
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