- Vaughn: Holy Shhhhh...
- Me: Beginning to raise my eyebrows. Thinking uh-oh, don't go there Vaughn (at least not in front of Daddy. What is he going to think I'm saying around you all day. Oh, who am I fooling, he's driven with me enough). I don't think I've said that in front of Vaughn though. Have I? It's possible. Definitely possible. There was that time the other day when I came downstairs and he had emptied out the egg carton on the floor, and only ONE was broken, but a whole bunch more were about to be broken. And then earlier today when I went upstairs and he was in our tub and squeezed out an entire tube of diaper rash ointment and did finger painting on the wall, and then opened up a tube of mascara and was painting with that. What did I say then? I don't remember...
- Vaughn: ...OOOT!
- Me: Smiling now. That's my boy.
- Rick: Holy Shoot? Vaughn, is your Mommy from Utah? Is she teaching you to swear like a Utah Mormon?
During our evening walk the other night, we came to a large curb which made the stroller do quite a big bump, bump. "Holy Shoot!" Vaughn yelled quite loudly. Rick and I raised our eyebrows and looked at each other, then laughed. But really in slow motion it went more like this: