About 5 hours before the below image was taken last night, Logan my just-turned-four-year-old and I were at the grocery store. Minding our own business in the checkout lane, we put the little divider up between our groceries and the gentleman’s groceries in front of us. The “gentleman” in front of us apparently was not fond of children and started giving Logan some seriously dirty looks.
About five minutes into the hefting of our groceries to the conveyor belt, the “gentleman” in front of us struggles with getting a turkey out of his cart. The following exchange of diologue that cannot be removed from the universe was spewn forth:
Logan: Dude. Don’t be a pussy.
Me: Gasp! Logan! We don’t say that word!
Logan: Daddy says it’s hiwarious when I say that word.
Me: Logan, we can’t call people names though. That is REALLY not nice.
Logan: Mommy, that guy’s acting like a terd. Look at him.
Me: (trying to apologize with my eyes to a now irate “gentleman”) Logan. You need to not spend so much time with your dad.
It is at this point that the “gentleman” walks away and the cashier gives my just-turned-four-year-old a high five.
The below image is of my son and my dog, Molly. She was 16 weeks on Monday. 
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LMAO!!!!
Why doesn’t it surprise me that his father finds it funny when he says “pussy.” I think I would have died, honestly!
P.S. This is alex, aka sweets! HIII!!!