A Preemptive Apology

I have a feeling my language is going to become quite steel-worker-esque for the next little while. Not do to hormones or anything like that, but due to the fact that I am trying to get it out of my system before the little Rocket shows up. I have a feeling I may have the first child who can profane like Steve Martin at the age of two. Ok ok… I do actually think this could be hilarious. But, I am trying to be a good parent and to at least teach it (I hate saying “it”, but I don’t know the gender, yet) when this is appropriate and when it is not.

I do have this fantasy in my mind that one day while hangin’ out with grandma, this scenario will happen.

Grandma: Rigatoni Rocket, would you like some Mac n’ Cheese?

Rigatoni Rocket: Fuck yeah, I do!

or

*****ripping noise coming from the Rocket’s lower regions****
Rigatoni Rocket: Dude, I was straight up shittin’ there, dude.

It’s probably best that this will likely NOT happen. I don’t know if I could hide my hysterical laughter long enough to have any sort of success in teaching it that this was not acceptable. Maybe I should just accept the fact that the cursing is inevitable, and at least teach Rocket to do it with pizazz.

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