Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Must Be Genetic Part 2

I had to look back in my archives to make sure I hadn't already told these stories in this post. Fortunately, they weren't there, so we're clear.


Several years back, my mother's side of the family had a reunion in Star Valley, Wyoming, where my grandparents raised all of their children. My Uncle Lloyd was, at the time, still running the ranch. My mom decided she wanted to take some of her grandchildren out for a tour of the ranch. While walking along, pointing out the sites, Mom said, "See those animals over there? Those are boy cows. You call them bulls. Now, see these things on the ground? These are called little bullsh!ts."




When my sister was about 3 years old, Dad overheard her expressing her frustrations over a broken doll thus: "Hells bells, Matilda! Can't you fix this?"

Dad asked, "Now where in the world did she learn that kind of language, Leah?"

Mom was curiously silent as she washed up the dishes....



And one of my own, that I know I've told many of you already:

When A-- was about 2 or so, Phil was called to be a Ward Clerk in our church. He needed to be set apart, which they wanted to do in a very tiny office in the building. After our church meetings ended, we went to the designated room. Phil and the two men who were assigned to set him apart took their places. I sat on a chair, holding A-- in my lap. During the middle of the process, right when things were quiet, A-- dropped his sippy cup. Imagine my horror when he said, "THHHit! Thit, thit, thit!" (He had a lisp.)

I quickly revised my at-home vocabulary. But A-- had (still does) a long memory for things we don't want him to recall, and the next time I dropped something at home and said "shoot," A-- piped up and said, "Mommy, you uthed to thay thit! But now you thay thoot!" Yes, thank you, son, for remembering my faults and shortcomings. Lovely.



And now you know the rest of the story...or at least parts of it.

8 comments:

Queen Scarlett said...

This makes me feel so much better. ;-)
My girls have been saying "freakin' h-ll" when they spill things or when they get frustrated. I had no idea their hearing was so focused when I say things I shouldn't... Now I say...oh poop. Not the same release...but it'll do donkey. ;-)

b. said...

I love your potty mouth.

And Star Valley is one of my favorite places...it's beautiful!

Samantha said...

Email me? I have a question for you pertaining to this post: one_bewitched@yahoo.com

Kengo Biddles said...

I try to keep my Sailoriness well under wraps when the wife and kids are around. Doesn't always work, but thankfully the boys aren't doing so well in the language department just yet...I just have to get it under control before they really get going, linguistically.

Mrs. Organic said...

Somehow, in the last 3 years, I've gone exponentially in the wrong direction. I used to have alot better language than I currently do. My kids gasp when I say what I shouldn't - so far, none of them have resorted to using it.

I'm sure that will come back to bite me in the butt, though.

Gerb said...

Remind me to tell you about what Julia said in front of Allen's mom and dad when she was smallish. It's not as good as your story, but all of our legacies have to begin somewhere...

Sister Pottymouth said...

QS: I love that you say (or said) "freakin' h-ll."

b.: Isn't S.V. pretty? My mom grew up there, and the few times I've been up there to visit, I am drawn to its beauty. But the winters scare me.

Samantha: Done.

Kengo: In my defense, I'm very careful in front of the boys now. They hear stuff only rarely, and I always get "the lecture" from them when they do hear me.

Mrs. O: I was never a pottymouth growing up or in H.S. or college. Only after I married did this alter ego appear. The first time I heard myself, I was kinda surprised. But, like I say, it must be genetic.

Gerb: I think Allen's mom must take after Great Grandpa, the one in the first story. My mom says he was very mild mannered and not one to swear. Great Grandma, on the other hand, was a bit of a spark plug.

Elizabeth-W said...

That's like when my daughter in her earlier years called grandma Dam ma.
Thit is about the funnieth fing I'b eboh hu-ohd.