Debbie's Park

Disclaimer: This post contains more jarring profanity than most.

I am not kidding.

Shing.
Fawn.
Shwing.
Sha-wings. Fawn.
Weee
Fun.
Fun, wee.
Yay, fun shwings.





All that and she never actually wants to go on the swings. I should also say that lately, and it's probably paranoia on our part, but just about every word she says that begins with the letter 's' sounds like "shit" and, not that she actually says a lot of words that begin with 'f', but when she does, I'll be damned if they don't all sound like 'fuck'.

Now if you'll go back and read the first part of this post:

Shing.
Fawn.
Shwing.
Sha-wings. Fawn.
Weee
Fun.
Fun, wee.
Yay, fun shwings.


You'll understand that we were afraid we were a South Park scene come to life or a Dateline episode on the difficulties of dealing with Tourettes in toddlers:

Shit.
Fuck.
Shit.
Shit. Fuck.
Wee.
Fuck.
Fuck, wee.
Yay, fuck shit.

Sean and I are constantly looking to each other for reassurance that she didn't just say what we thought she did. Most of the time one of us translates for the other, but other times, we cringe and shrug our shoulders helplessly as we try to think of a word to teach her that will make it stop.

But enough of that. Let's see what fun we had today.
That's: fun, f-u-n.