My
mouth got me into tons of trouble growing up, and it started early. Here is a favorite family story (that for some
reason has been put to rest in the past ten years . . . strangely, my mother hasn't told this story even one time to my children): When I was three, I told my mom she was
stupid. My mom let me know we didn't say that and washed my mouth out with
soap to make sure I understood. As the story goes, when she finished, I looked at
her and said, “You’re ‘till ‘tupid.”
Furious, my mom washed my mouth out with soap again. Once again, when she finished, I said, “You’re
‘till ‘tupid.” After seventeen rounds
and a threat that I couldn’t be a part of the family anymore if I called her
that again, I stopped. Looking back, I
think, “Wow, what a smart, determined, and truth-declaring three-year-old I
was!” I totally got that soap in my
mouth didn’t change my mother one bit.
You can't wash your stupid away with soap.
You can't wash your stupid away with soap.
