Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Eating Peaches With a Fork

Spoiler alert: This post is loaded with F-bombs…sort of.

My mom always said “Intelligent people don’t need to swear because they can always think of something better to say”.   Apparently her grandson did not get the memo.

Once upon a time, back when my younger son was just a wee lad of about 15 months or so, we ran out of applesauce.  This made him cranky.   But, undaunted, I decided to try some peaches for lunch instead.  In a vain effort to secure a nomination for Mommy of the Year,  I decided to turn the situation into a “teachable moment”.  I kept repeating the word “peaches” so that he might try saying it himself and thereby introduce both a new food and new word in one glorious moment of flawless parenting.  He gladly obliged after he tasted his new favorite fruit…only the way he pronounced peaches, he sounded like a Hispanic  housekeeper saying “bitches”.  (Imagine “beeches”)  Of course I laughed at this like an eighth grade boy on weed watching Nacho Libre.

Seeing my response only encouraged him so when I asked him if he liked the pee-ches (overly pronouncing the word),  he nodded emphatically and said “mmmmm, beeches!  Like beeches!”.  In fact he was so enthusiastic about his bowlful of beeches that he dropped his little ergonomic fork on the floor.  No problem I thought, I figured he’d just grab the little beeches with his bare hands and pop them in his mouth, but no.  He wanted his fork… and he wanted it now.  At this point it will come as no surprise that, when he asked for his fork he pronounced it “f#ck”.  Well, problem was, his “f#ck” landed on a dust bunny and since it had been covered it “beech” juice, all manner of gunk was stuck to it.  And this, my friends, is where it went from Jack Black in Nacho Libre to Al Pacino in Scarface.   In the 3.5 nanoseconds it took me to wash off that tiny utensil, my son flew into a rage screaming at the top of his lungs “f#ck, f#ck!! Beetches!!  Want f#ck!!! Want F#ck Beeches!!” 

 And that is why you will not see my son eating peaches with a fork in public until he graduates from college.   The End.


Renee said...

All right, that is awesome. And to let you know you're not alone, my middle child did a lot of simplifying complex consonant combinations. So "dump" was "dum" and truck was "f#ck". So we'd drive past job sites and he'd be going "Look mommy! A dum f#ck!" and I would also be laughing my butt off. I was cruel enough to be in the company of other adults and say, "Honey, can you say 'dump truck?'" just to get a laugh. :)

Anonymous said...


Blog An said...

Ne, all I could think when I read your comment was, what if our kids were watching an episode of Bob the Builder about healthy eating together? They'd be like "Hey, check out that dum f#ck eating beeches!" hmmm, let's not have our kids meet till they're older...much older.

Get on my level. said...

Lol I love this, I'm so glad you have this blog because now it gives me ammo for when the boys get older and bring their girlfriends around!

Anonymous said...

Did your mom just call me a dumb f@#k because I curse like a three year old Hopkin? - lil bro.

Blog An said...

I doubt my mom thinks you are a dump truck or a stupid utensil. Actually she likes you a lot, but probably would try to whack you with a wooden spoon if you potty mouthed in front of her. So if you do decide to let an f-bomb fly in her presence make sure you're standing far enough away and near an escape route.