woman in purple sweater covering her face
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My oldest daughter was such a delicate little angel and she had big blue eyes, dirty blonde hair and she picked up talking like a pro. She was speaking two and three word sentences by the time she was nine months old. When she was two she had language down. So when she learned a new word she instantaneously used it.

My husband was setting up to the paint our living room. He had removed the covers of the outlets and put the screws on his desk next to his computer. This was the early nineties and our computer was the most expensive thing we owned. My husband was an engineering student and his computer was his best friend. When I was showering to get ready to leave because I was pregnant and my husband didn’t want me near the paint fumes. I was drying off when I heard a commotion coming from outside the door. I listen to my husband’s voice and none of it sounded nice and pleasant. This is when I decide to check in on him to see what was up. (keep in mind, he is an adult and this is his two year old daughter, soooooo I mean do I really have to go and deal with this because shouldn’t he have this. After all I spend every single weekday and most weekends alone with her. But whatever!)

“What’s going on?” I ask while I waddle into the living room with my big round belly.

“Where are those fucking screws?” he asks

I look at him and I am all like “I’m not sure. Where did you put them?”

My daughter is now hiding behind me because her father is furious.

“I put them right here.” and he shows me.

“I waddle over and start searching for the missing screws.” my daughter is clinging to me and I get the feeling that she knows something about the missing screws. I look at her and I say “Sweetheart did you see Daddy’s screws?” I lift up a screw and show her.

She smiles and nods her head. She points to the hard drive slot on my husband’s favorite thing in the world, his computer, and she says “Futtin thcrewth!”

She smiles and says it again pointing “Futtin thcrewth! Futtin thcrweth! Futtin thcrewth!” like she is having some sort of swearing baby episode or something.

My husband finally sees where she is pointing and his face turns white and I am not lying when I say I have never felt more like that lady in the shining when her husband was trying to find her with that axe…..I was like Oh shit, He is about to lose his futtin mind.

I grabbed my daughter and I sort of move out of his path. He looks at me and he says, “Just get her the hell out of here! I am going to have to take the computer apart now and I don’t need her touching anymore of my things.”

I put her down and gather all of our things and she is wandering around the house while I am packing a diaper bag full of the essentials to be away for the day or longer if he loses his complete fucking shit and we are no longer welcomed back. As she is wandering around behind me she says this to each thing I put in the diaper bag.

“Where are my futtin pants?”

“Where is my futtin cup?”

“Where is my futtin blankie?”

“Where is my futtin dollie?”

Where are my futtin diapers?”

So as my daughter is releasing all of these F Bombs I start laughing because I am really just a child who can’t adult on my best day. My husband is in the living room and he has moved one of our roadside couches to block the entryway so that the little hoodlum doesn’t break anymore of his things.

She is now over by the barricade and shouting “Where is my futtin Daddy? Where is my futtin Daddy? Where is my futtin Daddy?”

I think well that’s a fun game that will keep her busy while I get my shoes on because I can’t actually see my feet and this is going to take a while. When all of a sudden she disappears under the couch and get’s herself stuck under there. At first I hear her  grunting and wrestling to get herself free. Eventually she realizes her predicament and let’s out a scream that would wake the dead.

My husband is sitting calmly still working away at his computer not even paying attention to his daughter freaking out under the couch. I look at him and I say “Can you please help me?”

He sighs and puts his things down. We both are working toward trying to release our two year old who has got herself wedged completely under the couch when she finally says.

“Help Me! I am FUTTIN STUCK!”

I start laughing so hard that I am rendered useless. I can’t lift the couch. I can’t pull her out. All I can do is Wheeze and laugh and lose all muscle control. This makes my daughter panic even more and shouts even louder “I’m really futtin stuck!” The more she says it the more it makes me laugh and the more annoyed my husband gets and the more panicked my daughter gets. Finally I get some composure and my husband lifts the couch enough so that I can grab her leg and drag her out of there.

My daughter looks me square in the eye, slaps my chest and says with pure conviction “Stupid futtin Mommy!” At that moment I knew she was actually mine. This is my child for sure. I can now see the family resemblance.

Moral of my story: Obviously watch your language around your children unless you want to have your own version of this story. I get it babies cursing isn’t that attractive but when you hear that little tiny voice cursing you out it is a little bit startling and that makes me laugh. I mean you just don’t expect it. Also if this isn’t clear my daughter was two and had a speech impediment….she was saying fucking screws… and fucking everything else. I was told not to react to it and they will stop. I didn’t give any reaction and she eventually lost interest in that word…that is until she became a teenager in which case we revisited this word on a more permanent basis. Also I don’t really mean to make my husband look like an asshole but to my recollection of this day he was an asshole…..but I was also pregnant so you do the math.

Until next time 🙂

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