The other night, Sarah and I were finishing up dinner and the kids around the house playing. From the living room, where JoeJoe is playing with his trains, we hear, in soto voce,
"What
...
The
...
...
HECK
...
...
Is
...
That?!"
I immediately start to snigger. Sarah looks up, perplexed, as Emma runs by the dining room, whispering huskily, "What the heck is that?! What the heck is that?!"
I am approaching tears at this point, with my face in my hands, as Sarah calls the kids to "Come talk to Mommy, RIGHT NOW."
"'What the heck' is bad," she tells them.
JoeJoe responds, "'What the heck' is not bad," somehow stretching the last word into two syllables.
I'm still about to explode with laughter as Sarah tries to maintain her composure and tells them that "When you're little, 'What the heck' is bad."
JoeJoe's response, "But Daddy is not little. Daddy is big."
