I've never kept a scrapbook or baby book for my kids. We just have heaps of pictures on the computer and in drawers or boxes throughout the house. And there are a million things I have wanted to capture but never did. But here's the first from my memory bank with more to come.
When Son #1, our oldest who is now seven, was in preschool, he went upstairs one afternoon and it was suspiciously quiet for a bit too long. When I went to check on him, he was lying in bed looking at one of his toys. "What's the matter Scootchie?" He responded, "My plane is broken. And I don't know what the h*ll is wrong with it." I gasped. He looked shocked. "Is that a bad word?" I assured him it was and he apologized. After a minute of silence, he then asked, "I don't know what the f*ck is wrong with it?" They don't teach this in Parenting 101 but I burst out in laughter. "Dude, that's worse!" I haven't heard him swear since.
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