Duh. . .

August 27, 2013

Posted By: Shaunescy

We stopped at Target the other day. I needed to do something silly and distracting. Plus we were hoping to run into Charlie after hearing Bozemama singing his awesome dude-like praises, but no luck there. The kids had tooth money and wanted to get a toy or gadget. I have taken to giving in and wandering the toy aisles for 45 minutes to an hour simply because it's hot outside and I can't take the bickering or cartoon jingles of a pent-up, heat-of-the-day indoors fest. I'd rather let the kids oversaturate their little brains with the desire-for-stuff by wandering that ginormous store's deeply cool air conditioning than hear, "SPONGE BOB! SQUARE PANTS!!!!" Ad Nauseum.

And since Hubby was out of town, I had that freedom. You see, I am a miser. I bring as much cash in as I intend to spend and not a penny more. I will never have a Target Red Card, that option for me, 'spend to save' - 100% bat-crap crazy. So we bought a $3.00 USB powered fan for the boy and for $1.00, a pile of glittery alphabet stickers for the girl after our foray into toyland.

Hubby is more of a soft touch with the monkeys. Not that he is a spend thrift. That isn't true at all but on the rare occasion that he has one or both of them as a shopping companion, it's different. For example, if Little man, the science brain, has excavated the toy department to find the perfect environmentally friendly rocket that shoots 150 feet into the air and yet he only has $5.00 of tooth money and it costs $9.99? Often times they will return home, rocket in hand and I am set to finding extra chores to make up the difference. The Soccer-Princess-tomboy-bombshell is a whole other kettle of fish.  I can't even begin to fathom what those negotiations look like. But, if I am the guard on these missions? No money rules are bent.

But I bend other family rules. I am not proud about this and yet I am going to tell you. I swear like a sailor. Nowadays, I am usually found 'whisper-swearing' instead of being truly obnoxious. I am something of a failure at being a good example of not resorting to 'easy' language. But I do try. Or at least I have made a truly concerted effort after the Soccer-Princess-tomboy-bombshell aptly whisper-swore 'flip-flop' when she spilled her cereal.

My favorite replacement for the f-word is "flip-flop." Quite often, I elongate the 'S" and say "Shhhhhhugar!" Drat, Rats and Heck are all part of my common vernacular. And if I am really in a twist, I might be found saying vehemently, "Shhhhhhhhugar, that flip-flopping, dratted rat-patooie-head cut me off! Heck! Ding-dong the witch is dead."

I will spout Disney tunes as an epithet. Oh, so nerdy but I am ok with that. I love language. It's funny and I am easily entertained. Yet, when my kids started saying, "duh." I found myself a bit flummoxed. Here's how it came down in the car:

Him: I have something to tell you about my fan, mom. I can plug it into the back seat of dad's car but not yours.

Her: Why butter? (obviously, butter means brother)

Him: Duuuu-uh, I don't have the right connection to the car's power in Mrs. Car.

Her: Duuuuu-uh, that's right! Mom, Duuuu-uh? Why don't you have the same connector, duh?

Him: Sis, Duh......  Mrs. Car is different.

I collapse into giggles.

I say, "Okay, what's up with the Duhs?"

Him [deadpan]: Kids like to say, "Duh" and we are learning it now.

Her [also guilelessness personified]: We like saying, "Duh" mom.

I am seriously questioning if it is safe for me to drive the car because I am shattered by my stifled giggles.

"Okay, kids, you are so funny and the Duh thing is cracking me up. I remember being about your age and playing with Duh. But I was a kid in Wisconsin and we really had a way with it! We didn't just say Duh, there was No-Duh and even better. . . No-Duh-hey!  But dad's not gonna dig it. Get it out of your system now, okay?"

So stinkin' funny. Maybe I should ask Chrysti the Wordsmith to help me out with the etymology of that one. Sheesh!


All my best, BunnyFufu ~ The Housewife

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