. . .and the devil's still making me do it

So apparently I'm doing a bang-up job teaching Claire about the pitfalls of swearing.


The other night Courtney was building a fire in the stove when Claire came out to watch.  Upon which she asked him, "What the *@#! are you doing?"

Uh, yeah.  They had a little chat.


And yesterday, I was making a sandwich for Claire and Sam.  I had taken the lunch meat out of the freezer the night before, and it was still a little bit frozen.  I was having a hard time getting some for their sandwich, and Claire, seeing my difficulty, asked me if she could help.  As she grabbed for the meat, she exclaimed, "That is *@!# cold!"

Upon which I asked, "What did you just say?"

She repeated her exclamation in a perfectly matter-of-fact voice.  You would have thought we were discussing the weather.


Soooo, we had a little chat.  I explained that she has got to stop swearing.  (I don't know, something inside me just tells me it's just not a good habit for a five year old?)  Then she suggested that I should talk to her teacher and tell her that she needs to teach Claire to not swear.

"That's what Dad and I are doing!  That's our job!"  I tried to explain.

In what must have been a logical thought process for her, she then concluded, "Ok!  So it's okay for me to swear everywhere but home?"



My parents used to say that they didn't know whether my free-spirited little brother was making them old or keeping them young.

I think I know how they feel.