"Friggin' dog..."

The other day my brother-in-law, Grant, was standing in their back doorway with my nephew, Jake, who's almost 4. They were letting the dog back in the house. Abby is getting a smidge older and does that dog thing where she'll just stand in front of an open door, cock her head and look at you quizzically, like, "What exactly am I supposed to be doing here?"

So they're standing there and all the air conditioning is leaving the house and Grant says, "Abby! Come on."  Abby meanders past them into the house and Jake shakes his head solemnly as he watches her pass. Then Grant hears him  mutter, "Friggin' dog..."

Grant looks up at Nicole. "Oh, real nice language you're teaching the boys."

"Hey," she said. "You're lucky it wasn't the real thing."

Cracks me up. I can only imagine the blue streak that would be coming out of my kids mouth. Frankly, I'm surprised the cats don't walk around muttering "Shit" and "damn it."