Curbin' the Cussin'

A couple of weeks ago, I took the kiddo to a production of A Little Princess, which my brother's girlfriend adapted, scored, cast and directed. We were very excited about going, and I had looked up the directions to the theater on Mapquest. Naturally Mapquest told me to go south instead of north at one point, and we wound up lost. As I tensely drove around, looking for a turnaround point on the winding road, and doubting all subsequent directions, I repeatedly uttered one word: crap.

"That's a bad word," the kiddo helpfully pointed out. True, I said, and asked if he knew what it meant.

"Yeah, Daddy already told me all about that. He said it comes from a man named Crapper."

Well, alrighty.

"Can I say it?" he asked. Um, no, it's not really a good idea for kids to say that, I said.

The kiddo thought for a moment, then asked, "Can I say this word then? Dagnabbit!" as he pumped his fist and scowled.

After laughing for a minute, I consented, and drove my little 1890s prospector to the show.