Here's the thing, friends and strangers: I have a dirty, cussy mouth. Especially when I'm driving and people are being dickfarms: changing lanes without a turn signal i.e. cutting a bitch off. Archer's speech-delay has sort of tricked me into thinking Archer hasn't been absorbing every word I've uttered in the last so-odd months. Like "shit". And "holy balls" and "dickfarm" of course, which is a word I coined myself. Thank you, thank you.
I don't even notice when I say these things, of course. I accidentally curse in front of little old ladies and small children and oh, sweet lord! I'm a horrible role model! When you see me RUN. THE. OTHER. WAY! (Tourettemommy.blogspot.com coming soon to a browser near you!)
So Archer's cussing, now. He says "Oh, shit" and "GO! Adhole!" when we're in the car. I've created a monster which is not good (at all) especially because Archer starts preschool in T minus three-weeks and I'm seriously scared. Because a child with a speech delay who can curse like a sailor? Well, that's kind of suspect.
Okay, really suspect.
At least he's cute. I mean, how can anyone be hard on a rubber ducky who makes bathtime so much fun?
Oh, who am I kidding. I'm so
In other news, Archer masters the art of the self-portrait, and I flirt with the idea of *actually* printing my own digital photos for once in my life. Sheesh, I have issues.