How about this…I’m just going to pretend it hasn’t been over a year since I’ve posted to this blog…I’m sure my five readers won’t mind.A conversation that occurred at our house last week – in two acts:
Act One
A repeat of the HILARIOUS Flight of the Conchords is on TV while Audrey is absorbed in her latest drawing of a “mountain”. (I know, I know, bad, bad mom.)
One of the characters on the (have I already mentioned) HILARIOUS Flight of the Conchords says “asshole”, and Audrey (who hasn’t been paying attention to the television at all up until this point, or so I thought) looks up at me and says quizzically, “asshole?” My response? “Yes, asshole, you can’t say that word.” Her response? “OK” and back to intently working on her “mountain."
She’s incredibly serious about drawing, coloring, painting, etc… lately now that she’s decided she’s going to be an artist when she grows up. Bryan and I wholeheartedly support this career decision as long as she goes the route of artist who makes a tiny bit of money so she can afford bed pans for her parents when they’re old and decrepit, rather than becoming the artist who poops in a box and calls it art. But I digress
Act Two
The next day she’s in the den reading a book with my mother, and Audrey stops her mid-sentence to inquire, “Mama, when can I say asshole.” My mom, who wasn’t present for the aforementioned conversation is needless to say a bit bewildered, and Audrey can tell…so she explains that yesterday her mom told her she couldn’t say the word asshole and wants to know when she can say it.
Without missing a beat (my mom’s done this a few times before after all) she replies, “You can say it when you’re eighteen.” End of conversation.
A couple of hours later Audrey finds me in the kitchen…”Mom, when I’m eighteen, I can say asshole, ok?”
Over the next two days, she proceeds to share this exciting news with everyone within earshot.
Thanks mom.
One of the characters on the (have I already mentioned) HILARIOUS Flight of the Conchords says “asshole”, and Audrey (who hasn’t been paying attention to the television at all up until this point, or so I thought) looks up at me and says quizzically, “asshole?” My response? “Yes, asshole, you can’t say that word.” Her response? “OK” and back to intently working on her “mountain."
She’s incredibly serious about drawing, coloring, painting, etc… lately now that she’s decided she’s going to be an artist when she grows up. Bryan and I wholeheartedly support this career decision as long as she goes the route of artist who makes a tiny bit of money so she can afford bed pans for her parents when they’re old and decrepit, rather than becoming the artist who poops in a box and calls it art. But I digress
Act Two
The next day she’s in the den reading a book with my mother, and Audrey stops her mid-sentence to inquire, “Mama, when can I say asshole.” My mom, who wasn’t present for the aforementioned conversation is needless to say a bit bewildered, and Audrey can tell…so she explains that yesterday her mom told her she couldn’t say the word asshole and wants to know when she can say it.
Without missing a beat (my mom’s done this a few times before after all) she replies, “You can say it when you’re eighteen.” End of conversation.
A couple of hours later Audrey finds me in the kitchen…”Mom, when I’m eighteen, I can say asshole, ok?”
Over the next two days, she proceeds to share this exciting news with everyone within earshot.
Thanks mom.
