Hello from the land of viruses, nasty colds, and migraines! Plus general busyness. I think everyone is mostly healthy now, so yay! Yuckiness aside, the past week has been good. My son landed a part in two plays he auditioned for (which most of y’all already know, but I’m still in proud mama mode), one of my posts was published on the Erma Bombeck site, HumorWriters.org, and my husband got our swimming pool open. Good stuff!
Now that I’ve got that out of the way, on to the funny…
We have a dog named Bilbo. We named him after a character from The Hobbit. If you haven’t read The Hobbit (or watched the movie), then you should know that the character is persuaded to go on an adventure with a wizard and a bunch of dwarfs to be a burglar, on account of him being small since he’s a hobbit. We are big Hobbit/Lord of the Rings fans in my house (to the point that I have three LOTR inspired tattoos), so Bilbo was the perfect name for the dog.
And it really was perfect, because that dog loves to steal stuff.
Before we got an invisible fence, Bilbo had free run of the neighborhood. (It’s a small neighborhood in a rural area, where other dogs have free run, too.) All of that came to an end, though, when he started bringing up stuff he’d stolen. At first it was a couple of balls, and then there was a beach towel, which wasn’t so bad, but then he brought up a wild goose, and that put an end to his freedom.
This didn’t stop Bilbo’s thieving ways, though. He has since turned his sights to food. He is super sneaky about it, too. For example, if a slice of pizza is on a plate with some other food, he can swipe it right off the plate without making a sound or knocking anything else over, which is pretty impressive.
Yesterday Little Man was eating a sandwich when the burglar struck again. He had it in his hand and was looking at something when Bilbo quietly sneaked up and took it. Little Man was surprised, but chuckled over it, and said the following:
Whoa! That was true (and hilarious), but whoa!
Now, as some of you have gathered from reading this blog (as well as those of you who know me in real life), I’m not exactly against using curse words. I try to be careful around the kids, mainly because I know Baby Girl would repeat them. Little Man has only dropped a curse word around someone once (in front of two preachers, sigh), but otherwise he knows better and will ask permission before using such words. So, even though “bad words” don’t bother me on any level, I was still surprised that he said that, since a) I didn’t realize he knew the word, b) he doesn’t drop such words without permission, and c) his sister was present.
(Bastard is one of those words that falls in the gray area for me, but if he dropped it at school, it would be a problem, so a bad word it is.)
Little Man was surprised by this.
I laughed and laughed over that. I explained that “little bastard” was definitely not a country saying, and something that he shouldn’t repeat at school or in front of his sister. I asked where he heard it, but he wasn’t certain.
Now let’s hope that Baby Girl doesn’t repeat this. She didn’t appear to be paying attention to any of it, so hopefully I won’t get any calls from the preschool in the fall reporting, “Baby Girl called a kid who stole her blocks a little bastard.”
(By the way, if you’re someone who likes to go on about how their kids would never say such words, this isn’t the place to post about it.)