I don't really think about the things I say to my kids. Well, I mean, I DO, but then again, I don't. Not always. (And sometimes those moments I wish I did pay attention come in retrospect, but that's another post.)
So as most moms do, I was multitasking / trying to entertain some littles so I could do other things, all while talking on the phone to my friend. I had put Cheeks and Boots in the bathtub while I paid bills/cleaned the kitchen/made cookies/etc. Boots of coarse was in and out after about 15 minutes but Cheeks was still playing away. I went in to check on her. She had injured herself.
This is what my friend on the phone heared:
"Honey, you can be a monster but just don't hurt your peepee."
She sort of giggled and said, "Well that's not something you hear everyday."
Hm... giggle. I guess not.
Last night, George quickly downed his supper beverage, hopped off his chair and said, "I think I'm drunk." Stunned, I asked him what "drunk" means. He didn't know. "Well, where did you hear that word? (because he certainly didn't hear it from me)" "Martha Speaks." Um, yeah, I don't think so. I never did figure it out.
Makes our recent family conversation about feces, and all the names for feces we could think of, seem pretty normal.