If you don’t know, I’m hosting a Twitter Party tonight for #RoyaleTigerTowel Paper Towels. And in chatting with an old friend, she casually asked,
“So, does Ryder still call paper towels f**k?”
WHAT?? Oh Lord. Memories immediately came flooding back. It’s true! Ryder used to call paper towels f*ck. Here’s a post I wrote in 2010 – when Ryder, as an impressionable toddler, picked up on my potty mouth and in a nanosecond, completely erased any mommy cred I had. Sigh.
August 20, 2010
I say paper towels, Ryder says f**k.
Okay, it’s all my fault. I broke the cardinal rule of parenting – Whatever You Do, Do Not Swear in Front of Your Child. And not only did I break it, but my infraction took place at a time when Ryder only needs to hear a word once to add it to his vocabulary. Sheesh.
It was three weeks ago, and I was lining my eyes with a soft black eyeliner in the bathroom. Ryder came in to observe (he likes watching mommy play with all the pretty pots) and I basically ignored him, going about my business as usual. Just as I was admiring my handiwork, out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Ryder had completely unrolled the toilet paper – leaving it in tufts on the floor.
“F**K!” I yelled.
He looked at me with wide eyes, pointed at the toilet paper, and said “F**k.”
“No, no, no,” I corrected. “That’s toilet paper. TOI-LET PA-PER. Say it, Ryder – Toilet Paper.”
He stared at me blankly. Whatever, we’re cool. No harm done. I calmly re-rolled the toilet paper to the best of my abilities and took him downstairs for breakfast.
Did you ever notice how paper towel rolls look like giant toilet paper rolls? Ryder did. And he then pointed to the paper towel roll on the counter top and declared, “F**k.”
Lord Jesus, what have I done.
I corrected him once again. And the next day. And the next day. I tried diversion: “Did you mean truck, Ryder? Because that’s not a truck, that’s a paper towel roll.” I tried correcting him: “Oooh, that is a bad word, sweetheart, you shouldn’t say it.” And I even tried begging: “Please, please, please, say PA-PER TO-WEL, come on, say it for mommy.”
Now like most toddler phases, I was prepared to wait it out, reasoning that sooner or later he would forget the baddie and accept that “paper towels” is in fact the preferred term for tiny towels made of paper. But you know what really blows? The fact that he finds it necessary to point out the f**k to everyone who visits my home. Grandma has seen the f**k. My girlfriend was passed a f**k. Even Ryder’s great aunt was offered a f**k. And then I invariably turn beet red as I try to explain why my baby boy is cussing out the paper goods.
Oh well. Walmart’s got a good price on paper towels this week. Time to stock the f**k up.