Tuesday, December 16, 2008
When my son was two, my husband went to pick him up from the babysitter at the gym and was informed, "Your son dropped something and said 'F*ck it.'" We were embarrassed, but not terribly shocked. My husband curses whenever someone vomits all over the place which is fairly often at our house. I, too, have been guilty of letting some bad words slip out now and then. We vowed to be more careful, but we were relatively unfazed. "It could be worse," we told each other. You might be thinking, "What could be worse than the F word?" Well, I'll tell you.
Today, my son, who is now three and half, went on his first play date without me. His friend Emily's mom picked him up at school and brought him over to her house. I got a phone call. Josh apparently told Emily's housekeeper, "I don't like your dark face."
I am completely mortified. I have no idea why he would say or even think anything like that. We don't live in a particularly diverse part of NJ, but he visits Manhattan regularly. He takes Spanish classes. He has his own Obama T-shirt.
We will certainly be reading The Skin You Live In tonight!