So now, d-bags are "turkeys", dumbasses are "sillies" and the bastardo that pulls in front of you on the roadway gets only an elongated honk with nothing more than a "Hi Friends!" instead of the more course thoughts that we might perhaps otherwise share.
In the process of teaching our son these valuable lessons, early on I have attempted to stress the importance of clear communication. This is most often required when things are not going his way. If our son is hurt or scared, I do not deter his tears. I do not shush him immediately or tell him he is fine. I let him mull a bit and then we talk about what is happening. However, when our son is salty with us because we committed one the dozens of secret infractions two year olds keep track of, different story. But, we stress the importance of clear communication even more so in this occasion.
One morning, I committed a
Me: What is it little man?
Him: Wahhhhhhhhh Waaaaaaahhhhhhhh (This is the ornery cry. I know it well. Quick visual assessment confirms he is not injured in any way.)
Me: Birdy, what is the matter?
Me: I need you to use your best voice and tell me what is wrong.
Him: More gibberish
Me: When I can't understand you I can't help you. I am going to leave now.
Momentarily silence as he gauges situation. Can not tell if I am bluffing. Will not achieve goal if in fact I am not bluffing. Calming process clicks in..in long intervals.
Me: This is not how we communicate.
Pause for consideration.
Me: What does Mommy tell you? Why don't we talk this way?
He looks at me. Intensity of fit at all time low.
Him: B-b-b-because its n-n-not effective.
Termination of any furthering crying. Fully restores himself. Says in a voice as clear as a bell "May I have my cowboy spoon?" Slightly smiles.
You had me at "effective."
SHAZAM! If for only for this time period....it's working...
Which then, in all my "LOOKATMESUCHANAWARDWINNINGMOTHER" gloat party, I soon put him in the car and head to school. While en route, we listen to music.
Once at school, our son says something to his teacher and I instantly realize I am doing something that completely undermines beforesaid lesson about using words properly and communicating effectively. What did he say?
THEM CHICKENS JACKIN MY STYLE!
His teacher (much, much older and clearly mature) asks "Oh, you got some chickens, baby?"
Why does MiniMac talk about chickens?
Because I played this song in the car and sing along with my son:
I like that boom boom pow
them chickens jacking my style
they try to copy my swagger
I'm on that next shift now
(and yes, I realize shift sounds very much like something else but we say shift.)
Excellent work brilliant woman/mother/attorney. Teach your son the phrase Them chickens jackin' my style.
I will be the envy of
very few of the other moms at the playground, I am sure.
But, better than Push It I suppose.