Why, Oh Why Did We Teach Him to Speak?

So last night the kiddo and I were at the outdoor mall nearby, buying sympathy cards for practically everyone in my son's dad's family. As we passed a group of teenagers lounging/congregating nearby, one kid in a tank undershirt, saggy pants and backward baseball hat dropped his cell phone and it skittered across the sidewalk right in front of us.

"F**k! C**k! S**k!" said the teen angrily.

"F**k! C**k! S**k!" said my son merrily.

A girl in the group heard my son and her jaw hit the floor before she burst out laughing.

"F**k! C**k! S**k!" said my son again, thrilled to have an audience. "F**k! C**k! S**k!"

Lemme tell you, there's nothing like hearing a sweet, young voice utter profanity. He's lucky his arm is still in its socket, the way I dragged him outta there. I told him those are "naughty words" and he had to stop saying them...but I also had a little bit of a hard time keeping a straight face. My laughter would've encouraged him more, so we ducked into Barnes & Noble (which the kiddo used to call "Trains and Marbles") for a distraction.

I'm sorta wondering if the kiddo even remembers the incident. He hasn't mentioned it, and I don't plan to ask if he remembers.

The funny thing, though, is that it's not the first time he's heard questionable language, but it's the first time he's repeated it. Well, the first time in a loooooong time. ;^)

Ah, out of the mouths of babes...