The boys have discovered the words 'butthead' and 'butthole.' They love the sound, timbre, and texture of these words. Can't get enough.
I do not love these words. Yes, it's likely I won't succeed in making them say benign words like 'bottom' and 'toot' their whole lives through, but when does one choose to lift the gate on the various levels of propriety?
I have administered warnings, disciplines, nags, and consequences to varying magnitudes. No help. Constantly, I'm hearing from another room, "Hey, Mommy! He said ____________ again!"
Finally, in exasperation, I looked at my mom and said, "Oh, what on earth am I to do with this?!"
In her wisdom, she said, "Well, I'd only punish it if you hear it with your own ears. If they're at the dinner table or running around the kitchen while you're fixing dinner, and they're shouting these words constantly, then tell them it's not okay. But that's different from the two of tem holding this power over each other in the other room, constantly tattling."
"And Tricia, you might as well know they're going to learn those words anyway. They're going to learn them, and they're going to say them. Heavens, you and your brother STILL say things I wish you wouldn't. And there are years of late night discussions in bunkbeds ahead of you, and you just won't be able to monitor everything that happens there. And much will happen there."
"And Tricia, I hope to hear about it when your boys are men, taller than you, and Tyler says with that little grin, 'Hey, Tuck, watch this: Mom? Butthole.' Because that will happen."