Mush-Mouths

As I was busy drinking coffee and reading emails this morning, I heard Tootie behind me saying, "Daisy is no in there" to Moggie. I cursed the mush-mouths under my breath and corrected Tootie and asked her to speak proper English. She told me that Moggie can't understand proper English, which is a load of crap. Moggie is 3 and brilliant, if I do say so myself. When Tootie sets upon one of her favorite noise-making endeavors, counting loudly to 100, she often has to ask Moggie for help. "What comes after 29? What comes after 39?" Moggie always has the answers. If Fidel allowed me to balance the checkbook I'd delegate that to Moggie because I have a pretty strong feeling that she would bounce less checks than I would, and that's no lie. I'm very forgetful and lazy. I have a bad case of mommy-brain and I'm too easily distracted.

ANYWAY, my whole point is, I wish my kids would stop hanging out with the mush-mouths because they are picking up their bad grammar. I grew up in rural SC so I don't have the best grammar myself, but there are people way more educated than I am allowing their kids to run around speaking like cavemen. The main MM kid also curses like a sailor in multiple languages and talks about his peen to my kids every chance he gets, so every phrase that my kids pick up from him grates on my nerves in the worst way.

I'm quickly realizing that the spectacular parenting I've done in between my internet and shopping hobbies over the past 5 years is being undone by a gaggle of 5-year old mushmouths. If I had known that when I first started this mommy gig I would have saved myself a lot of trouble by scattering goldfish and sippy cups around the house, tuning the tv to Noggin and disappearing with my laptop and phone.