My Toddlers Are Profane Gangsters

It all started at an indoor gym I take my kids to sometimes when it’s too cold to play outside. I sat on the side of the play mat amongst the other nannies and parents -checking my Facebook page- watching my children’s every move. The sound of my own child’s voice jerked me out of concentration. Twin B ran across the room yelling “Jelly C-ck! Jelly C-ck! Need Jelly C-ck!”

I nervously eyeballed the caretakers on either side of me paralyzed with embarrassment and then scooped Twin B into my arms, fearful that she may have overheard me and her father the other night. No matter how I tried to nuzzle her face in my arm, she kept finding open air and yelling “Jelly C^ck!”

Twin A and Princess were alerted to the unauthorized one-on-one time with Twin B, and they quickly scampered over to break up the embrace. The knee-high gangsters that are my spawn quickly surrounded me with accusing and needy eyes.

“Where Jelly C^ck, Mommy?” Twin B persisted. And just when I thought I could not be any more embarrassed, Twin A threw this line at me:

“I need c^ck d!ck.”

How did this happen?! It seemed like just yesterday my babies were squirming on the floor barely able to lift their own heads and now they were screaming for c^ck!?

I gathered up all three of my children and announced that we were going home to the safe and sheltered confines of our little gingerbread cottage atop a 6-intersection traffic circle and the local bar, AKA Brooklyn.

On the drive home, Greeka (my children’s rendition of “Grandma”) called. She said she wanted to come over and bring a crafting activity for them. Hells yes, Greek! Bring 20 and then put them all in their pajamas and tuck them in when you’re done!

“Oh Girls!” I exclaimed excitedly. “Greeka is coming over and she’s bringing a craft to do! Won’t that be fun!?”

“Greeka’s coming!” Princess yelled.

“Geeka!” Twin B mimicked.

“I need Geeka’s crap!” Twin A declared. ”Where Geeka crap?”

What?! Where the f- do they get this language from?! I am never bringing my girls to that sh!t-hole indoor gym again. Who was the sh!t-talker that taught them these awful words?!

Shortly after coming home, Greeka arrived as promised, and delivered all of her crap to my girls, resulting in snowman figurines getting glued to our furniture with heads stuck on butts and hats that never stayed in place. But Greeka’s “crap” kept them busy for a full 20 minutes which made those figurines seem divine and spiritual to me.

Following a “clean up” session, we all sat down for a scrumptious dinner of “mac and cheese a roni.” I tried to direct things toward word-play as opposed to food-play – the most enraging of all play (worse than dumping!) – with Greeka as a guest audience member, the girls were more eager than ever to show off and out-silly one another.

“Booky, bocky, shocky!” Princess yelled.

“Hookey, hicky, bigililgilfigl!” Twin A tried to get in on the game while Twin B all but fell on the floor cackling at each nonsensical string of sounds.

“Pilky, Poolky, Poosy!” Princess yelped.

Oh God, no.

I prayed that those sounds wouldn’t go where we all knew they were going. The potential for infinite and inappropriate joy for Greeka was imminent and I had to put a stop to it! I held my breath and squeezed my buttocks tightly, like I always do when I know things are going to get bad.

“Pu$$y, poopy, pooty, pu$$y!” Twin A yelled it before I could even try to intervene.

Greeka’s head shot around 180 degrees with a look of complete disbelief and joy. The devilish excitement in her eyes lit up the room. I gave her the sternest look I could conjure without inadvertently encouraging Twin A to repeat the “sentence.”

Greeka stood in my gaze, clearly trying to decide whether to enjoy herself or take one for the team. (I actually don’t think my mom has ever belonged to a team of any kind. In her lifetime.)

As any parent knows, kids can pick up on silent tension better than if the words were actually spoken. And this quiet, gripping fight was no exception. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to get in on the dirt, Twin A repeated herself (or she tried) with ever-increasing volume.

“Pu$$y, hoosy, higlfligl!” She quickly scanned our faces trying to figure out where the hook was. All three girls were now fixated on me and my mother waiting for someone to make a move.

And then she did it. Even as a licensed and certified Kindergarten teacher, the beast could not be tamed.

“Pu$$y, hossy, higlflig!” Greeka mimicked Twin A with the dirty little corner of her mouth turned up.

“UGH!” I stupidly displayed my disgust which only egged them on more.

“Hoosy, floosy!” Twin B interjected.

“Hassy wassy!” Princess squealed in laughter.

HA! Game over, Mom! I shot her a victorious one-eyebrow raise as my girls shifted the sounds back to non-profane gibberish.

“Come on girls,” I interrupted. “Let’s get ready for bed. Want to sing Silent Night? Siiiiilent Night. Hooooooly Night. Aaaaaaaall is come. Aaaaaaal is….” I attempted to move them on to another topic.

“I don’t need Silent Night,” Twin A cut me off. “I need the Bitch.”

WT…?!

“I need the Bitch, Mommy! The Bitch!” Twin A repeated.

“Bitch! Bitch!” Twin B chimed in. I froze in my footsteps to the kitchen, guilt-ridden if it was my fault and angry at my mom since I was sure it was her fault.

“London BRIDGE is falling down, falling down, falling down. London Bridge is falling down. My fair lady,” my Mom sang.

“More Bitch, Geeka!” Twin A demanded. I turned around to look at my mom and she was looking right at me, smiling her sinister smile and singing the second verse of “London Bridge.”

Lisa is a stay-at-home, blogging mom of 3 girls ages 4, 2 and 2. She lives in an apartment in Brooklyn, New York where if she can also squeeze in some fun, a sense of humor and a glass of wine, then it all seems manageable….some days. Before she was a mom, she taught elementary school and loved it. She blogs at Forever Five Blog and you can also find her on Facebook and Twitter.