Minding the Crap

This morning at Trailhead Household:

Trailhead Kid: I need to crap later.

Trailhead to Trailhead Spouse, whispering: Did he say what I think he said?

Trailhead Spouse, nodding: I think so. I'm pretty sure it's my dad's fault.

Trailhead Kid: I need to crap later.

Trailhead, studiously ignoring the crap issue: Let's go get some breakfast, TK.

Trailhead Kid: Okay.


And here I thought it would be Bloggerdad, the prime offender when my nephews were small, who taught TK his first socially unacceptable word. TH's eldest sister called Bloggerdad one day and informed him that TH Nephew's kindergarten teacher would like to speak with him.

"Why?" asked Bloggerdad.

"She wants to know why he keeps calling the other children shitbirds," replied TH Sister calmly but pointedly, as she referenced Bloggerdad's swear word of choice.

But in this case it was not Bloggerdad at all, but rather The Exterminator, who is the guilty party here.

I suppose it's an ancient tradition of grandfathers everywhere. I'm so proud.