Monday, October 12, 2009

Fudge

One of the problems with our super early schedule during the week is that Michael extends the super early wake-ups to the weekend as well. I know that it is not realistic to wake him up at 5:30 in the morning and then expect him to sleep until 7:00 on Saturday and Sunday, but I can still hope, right?

We handle this by taking turns getting up with Michael on the weekends. Andy takes Saturday morning while I sleep in, and I take Sunday morning while Andy sleeps in. The big problem with this, for me, is that Andy and I like to stay up a little later on Saturday night, and I always pay for it Sunday morning. This weekend was no different. We stayed up until 11:30. Michael woke up at 5:30.

I wasn't happy about only getting six hours of sleep, but it's not Michael's fault that I decided to stay up late, so I suck it up and make the best of our early morning time together. That said, I'm not always at the top of my game first thing in the morning.

At 5:35 yesterday morning I was in the kitchen making Michael's pink milk while trying to wake up. Michael was engaged with something, so we were not conversing. Out of no where I hear Michael say, "Fudge mommy, fudge."

But he didn't say fudge. He said the F--- word. (to paraphrase from A Christmas Story.)

I knew this was coming. He had dropped it on both my mom and Andy over the past week. Andy tried to explain that Michael had the word wrong, that it was actually "muck." That didn't seem to help. So, I gave it a lot of thought and decided to take Maria's advice and teach him that he can only use that word in his room. I had the whole thing worked out in my mind, and I was positive that I was going to handle the whole f-word situation like a seasoned pro.

Ha! I failed to recognize that I'm dealing with a 3.5 year old. No matter how well prepared you are, a 3.5er can trump even the most well though out plan. My, "you can only say that mean word in your bed room" was met with a single response; Michael gleefully exclaiming "FUDGE!"

So, major fail on the four letter word handling. By the afternoon, when the word popped back up, I decided to go with Andy's approach on "muck". Not much luck there either. I have a feeling that until Michael REALLY understands what the word means, that he will not give up his interest in it. We managed to keep the reaction to it pretty mellow, but we failed to get rid of the mystery around it's meaning, which is so important to Michael.

I only have one thing to say in response. "Fudge!"

7 comments:

Steph said...

Oh no, I dread this day with Cooper.

But, your early wake up schedule sounds like exactly what we do here too. Sundays are the worst since we're up later on Saturdays too.

Karla said...

Yikes!

Kara said...

Oh my!

Maria said...

Ooh! Sorry our plan didn't work for you. We actually all take time and encourage the naughty word saying at the designated time. (makes me sound like a great parent) it totally takes all the power from the words from our girls, and they love that they get to do it and actually regulate us and each other if someone says something that even remotely sounds like a bedtime word. Good luck, it is a tricky one!

Anonymous said...

I may not get the whole picture but where did he pick the "f" word up at?? That word has never been acceptable in our home and thus we now have teenagers and if they say it (I'm not that stupid), it certainly is not in the home or around us. I guess I don't see the humor in it. And I hear many having issues with their little ones saying it....

I did have the same issues with waking kids early during the week and praying that they sleep in on the weekends - it will happen as he gets older - just not now when you want it ;)

Joanna said...

Anonymous - In addition to the occasional slip from Andy and I, I hear the F-word all over the place. It's in pretty common usage in the Philadelphia area.

Anonymous said...

That's too bad then. I certainly don't hear it here in Michigan on a daily basis and I work full-time and live in the city. I guess what works, right. But I will continue to say to hear it out of a 3 year old is just plain sad. Maybe not the 3 year old part but the acceptance part.