Coming home from Lamb's spring concert, we decided to walk along the front of the house and in the front door (instead of going through the garage) to enjoy the flowers that I had spent all day planting. Mr. Fantastic was carrying a rather odorous Roo.
"It's funny," Mr. Fantastic began, "to have two distinct smells at the same time... Roo's a** and the flowers..."
I had barely given him the look when Monkey chimed in, "Yeah, you've got Roo's a** in this nostril and the flowers in that nostril!"
The look got even sterner. And I may have simultaneously stifled a laugh. That's what happens when you don't watch what you say.
"Buddy," I told him, "we really should use that word. It's not appropriate."
Monkey looked up at me with big sad eyes and said, "I'm sorry, Mommy. I won't say 'nostril' anymore."
I decided it was best to just let it go.
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