It’s graduation week. I have a longer, more sentimental post that I’m working through, but I had to jot this one down quickly before it was lost to history. Since it is graduation week, we have family that have started arriving to help Ethan celebrate and to help remind us how old we are.
Last night, my parents, Ethan and his girlfriend Rachel, and Jenny and I were sitting around the table just talking about different things. It was nice. Quinton was in his room playing XBox and Mireille was kind of bouncing between the TV in the living room and upstairs. At one point, though, she came in and talked with all of us to ensure that she could tattle on her brother.
“Quin said a bad word,” she told us. We asked her what he said, but she told us that she couldn’t say it. I assured her that she could, but still she resisted. I tried to coax her and asked, “what does it rhyme with?” She responded with “W.” OK, so clearly she doesn’t know what rhyming means… So I told her to come and whisper it in my ear.
Imagine, my 6 year old, 40 pound daughter with puffs wearing her unicorn t-shirt, comes over to me and whispers, very clearly, “What the f*ck.” In what continues to prove that I’m likely unfit for parenthood, I busted out laughing, and announced to the room what she said.
Of course, Quinton denies that he said it, and counter tattled with something that Mireille obviously did that was worse. It’s interesting being a parent.