Say what?! My daughter’s first curse word and other fun road trip memories.

Road trips. Is there anything that brings a family closer together? Two kids under four years old, two adults under 34 years old, and a car so loaded down we were often confused for the Clampetts. “Hey, ya’ll headin’ to Beverly…Hills that is?” Nope, we were heading to Texas Hill Country, off to see family deep in the heart of barbecue, boots and Friday night football. We left at 6 p.m., and arrived at 2 a.m., hopeful that our late-night travels would be peace and quiet from the back seat. Wrong. They slept a total of two hours. Whee! By the time we exited I-35 to make the short trek to my mother-in-law’s house, we were all delirious. My husband was slapping his face to stay awake (after three energy drinks), and the girls and I were singing/talking/making random animal noises LOUDLY to keep our brave driver awake. We found out the hard way that our youngest is a major homebody. We thought she would collapse into her pack-and-play on arrival. Wrong again. Both girls were up until 3:30, and I ended up holding the baby every night just so we both could get some sleep. So you get the picture. Sleep deprivation was a major theme.

Nevertheless, we had a fabulous, relaxing time. My in-laws go out of their way to accommodate our visits, and even have an entire bedroom devoted to the grandbabies (there are five girls under five). And let me tell you, those four pounds I lost pre-vacation came right back on, times two. I really don’t care how much I weigh, but I can’t afford new clothes. You get my drift? But my willpower was NO match for vacation food. Barbecue, chimichangas, biscuits and gravy, birthday cake with butter cream frosting…oh my! It was all deeeelicious. And even though I’ll have to work double-time this week to rid the extra weight, it was worth it. Every yummy morsel. Sure wish I had a piece of that cake right now….and some more barbecue.

And as they say, “When in Texas, do as the Texans do.” (Or something like that.) We shopped for boots for my oldest daughter, who has grown out of her favorite cowgirl footwear (but still insists on wearing them). Her eyes were instantly drawn to a pair of pink, sparkly boots, but I turned her attention elsewhere. To the pink, light-up boots (there were WAY cooler). But my daughter, ever the trendsetter, had her own ideas. “I want the American Flag ones,” she insisted. She slid them on her feet, and didn’t want ti take them off. She sashayed down the aisle in her borrowed felt pink hat, and borrowed peace sign knee sock the sales lady gave us to try on boots. That’s my girl!

And of course, no Texas September Friday night would be complete without a good, old-fashioned football game. My brother-in-law is finishing out his senior year of high school, and was thrilled that we could attend his game. I’m from a “football town” in south-central Kansas, so I’m no stranger to Friday night lights. But you know what? Things really are different down there. There’s more bling (on shirts, belts, jeans, well, everywhere), and more cowbell. Much more cowbell. 😉

My niece’s first birthday party was our last hoo-rah in Texas, and I was so sad to say goodbye to my three sweet nieces. My sister-in-law (who should moonlight as a party planner), put together a beautiful party in her gorgeous home, and the girls delighted in playing with their cousins. And back to that birthday cake. Not only was it stunning, it was SO good. The frosting (homemade, of course), was sinfully made, but completely worth it. Still drooling…

We headed home on Sunday, tired, loaded down and ready to get back home. What should have been a seven-hour drive turned into a nine-hour drive (with numerous pit stops). But that’s to be expected. What I didn’t expect, however, is what came out of my daughter’s mouth as we were driving through Northern Oklahoma. This is the conversation that led up to the most shocking moment of the entire trip, and probably of the entire year (we’ll see what the next three months have in store).

A: Mommy, I have to go poop.
Me: Do you really? Last time we stopped, you really didn’t have to. (False alarm.)
A: I reaaaaally have to.
Me: Okay, we’ll stop as soon as we can. (Of course, we were in the middle of nowhere and nothing.)
A: Moooomy! I have to go REALLY bad!
Me: Sorry, honey, we have to find somewhere to stop. Can you hold it?
A: No. I can’t. I’m going to poop in my carseat.
Me: No! You can’t honey! We’ll pull over and let you go in your duck potty. (We’d brought an “emergency” seat.)
A: I’m pooping right now. In my carseat. (Face straining.)
Me: Really?! No, honey, please stop! We’ll pull over!
A: (Mischievous smile) No, I’m just joking…
Me: Ahhh! Don’t do that to mommy! That’s not funny!
A: Can we go back and poop at Nana’s?
Me: That’s six hours away sweetie, I don’t think you could hold it that long.
A: I have to go nooow!
Me: Here we go sweetie, there’s a gas station up there. Just a few more minutes!
I turned in my seat to see her expression, and was completely unprepared for what came out of her mouth next.  Her face had a sweet smile, and then she said:
A: Shit….I shat. (Still grinning from ear to ear.)
Me: (Choking on nothing) You…what?! What did you say? Where did you hear that? That’s a bad word!
A: What word? What did I say mommy?
Me: That word! You just said. Where did you hear that? Who taught you that?!
A: Nowhere. I made it up.

So, there it was. My daughter’s first correct usage of a curse word. (For the record she didn’t actually “do” what she said she did.) And she’s three. One that she “swears” she made up. But I’m not buying it. I have to admit I was holding back some serious laughter. Not only did she use the present tense, but the past! Correctly! I know without a doubt she hasn’t heard that at our house. My husband is very careful with his words, and even reprimands his male friends while they’re watching a heated football game when the girls are around. She didn’t hear it from us, but she dropped it on us. My sweet little girl and her surprising potty mouth sure made for a memorable vacation. And when she reads this someday, I hope it prepares her for when her own “little angel” lets the s-word fly. I sure wish someone would have prepared me! 🙂