We're still in debate where he picked these up from.

As we step outside, Connor's toy in his arms, we open the car door for him to jump in, when he drops his toy on the ground.

In mild frustration, he said, "Jesus Crimany!"

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I was sitting outside on the deck, enjoying the rays of the Fall sun, when Connor strides over to me and asks, "Mandy, fuck is a bad word right?"

"Yes, we don't say those words."

"Right. And shit is a bad word too, right?"

And even though I figure out he's just trying to find ways to say bad words out loud without getting in trouble, I told him, "Right."

"And Mandy?---"

"Don't say any more bad words, Connor. We shouldn't say ANY bad words."

"Right. 'Cause they are bad."

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"Dad... Mandy... can we go to the pizza parlor today?"

"Probably not today, Buddy."

"Tarter sauce."

(Well, that one came from Sponge Bob Square Pants, THAT we know for sure.)

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Traveling in the car, Scott and I are talking while Connor is in the backseat, trying to play with a complicated toy.

In frustration he says, "This is freaking making me crazy."