The Parrot

The past couple of months have been among my favourite with The Boy. Not to say I haven't been lovin' every minute with him, but the last little while has been extra fun. Not only has he developed a great sense of humour, he's starting to string sentences together, which is both cool and adorable. The fact he uses the words and sentences appropriately, instead of random babble, is just icing on the cake.

On Saturday he picked up his music kit. It's a toy drum with a collection of instruments inside. As he's carrying it to the coffee table, the bottom head pops off and all the instruments fall out. A few months ago he might have uttered the phrase "Uh Oh. This time he looks at the mess of instruments and says, "Oh Shit." At least he's using the phrase appropriately, but we'd prefer it if he just didn't say it at all. Looks like the time has come for me and P to clean up our act.

I'm going to miss swearing, but we're doing it for The Boy. I mean, if we don't and he keeps using this type of language, can joining a street gang be far off? Innocent play will soon be replaced by pedal-car jackings and cookie-pushing. And onesies and sleepers dropped in favour of those oversized, novelty pants kids seem to think are still cool.

Those oversized pants always struck me as an odd thing to wear if you're doing (or pretending to do) crime and be "street". How do you expect to run from the law if your pants are down by your ankles? You'd think that if doing crime was the objective, wearing a unitard or some sort of spandex would be more appropriate.

Unitard? Spandex? Maybe that's why no one joined my gang when I was a kid. It would be like running with the cast of a Broadway musical.