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Chris and I rolled out of bed at 6:45 this morning (with him whispering to me in order to not wake his mother...until we got to the bedroom door, at which point he shrieked "Milk, Daddy!" :) ) and went downstairs. He lets me know now when the coffee is ready, so after I came back with my first cup and sat down with him and Thomas, the tracks got kicked and came apart. Chris looked at the tracks and said, with crystalline clarity, "Oh my God."
After I picked up my chin, I asked him where he'd heard that, but he wasn't listening. He said it again later in the morning, in response to some minor calamity, and Cheryl (Ms Uly) was convinced he'd said "gosh".
Fast forward to an afternoon Christmas shopping trip to the Target in the small, churchgoing town of Hiram, Georgia. You see where this is going. Halfway through the experience, we turned down the Aisle of Wheeled Toys, and his mouth opened. "Ooooooooohhhhhhhh..."
Cheryl and I froze through the crescendo.
"MY GOD!"
The doyenne a few feet down the aisle quickly put her hand to her mouth and gave me a look as if to say, "You have quite the cloven-hoofed charmer there." I sprinted past her, muttering something about the screwballs in daycare, before Cheryl and I allowed ourselves to crack up a few aisles away.
He may have heard it from me, but I'm blaming it on his friend Alex, who doesn't know any better.
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