censorship

Lately, whenever I tell Malcolm to do something that he doesn't want to do (or say something that he doesn't want to hear), I'm greeted with the following statement:

"Mom, don't say that word!"

(It's like the new and improved version of "me don't like!")

That word.

I have to chuckle whenever he does it.

"What word, Malcolm?"  I want to ask.

Although I know the answer.

That word refers to many words.  Many words that seem to be in my vocabulary a lot lately ...

No, you may not jump on the couch.

Let's take a quick trip to the potty.

Stop taking those toys away from Pearl.

You need to wait for lunchtime.

We'll play with your trains later.

It's still nighttime, you need to go back to your bed.

We're going to get dressed now.

It's time to turn off the TV.

Truthfully, that word could stand in for just about anything, given Malcolm's yo-yoing emotions and changing attitudes these days ... But, nonetheless, it cracks me up.

All of the minor fits and three-year-old stand-offs are totally worth it as long as he keeps chiding me for the use of "that word."

The things he continues to come up with ...