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Potty Mouth: Amazon Echo finally got something right

potty-mouth-nickels

You guys, I have to be careful anymore about telling stories on my oldest child because he’s big enough to care now. And also he can read, so there’s that. This is the sad part, in a way, about growing up: self-awareness and embarrassment (isn’t that silly?). Sooo I’m not really able to tell as many good stories as I used to (my personal favorites here and here). I can’t hardly even get a good photo of the kid anymore without him making some crazy face. Sigh. So if there’s a plethora of baby photos in my Instagram feed, that’s why.

That being said, we have a case of the potty mouth on our hands over here.  A few weeks ago, He Who Shall Not Be Named Since He Can Read (ahem, HWSNBNSHCR, oh forget it, that’s a ridiculous acronym) was wrestling with Simon when out of his mouth slipped “#@*&#(!”

And Simon was all “WHAAAAAT did you say?”

Because gentle reader, we’re not big cussers over here at the Pencil Shavings abode. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’ve been known to let one fly in times of duress, as has the mister. But on the whole, it’s not a habit we’re prone to. So it was a little shocking when that little gem flew out of the Firstborn’s mouth. We dealt with it and moved on.

Fast forward to last weekend. Have you seen these Amazon Echo things yet? I call it a thing because I don’t know how to describe it other than a box that sits on your counter and you can talk to it like Siri. Except her name is Alexa and she is super dumb. (Once you’re used to Siri and how relatively smart she is, it’s hard to switch). We’ll ask Alexa stuff and usually she doesn’t know the answer but for some reason, it documents on the Echo app everything you’ve ever asked her.  And in a surprising turn of events, Alexa did in fact finally know the answer to something.

Sunday morning as we’re lounging in bed before church (because these things allllways happen right before church, do they not?), Simon asks me “Um, did you ask Alexa how to spell $#*!.” I snorted. Um, no. I know how to spell that. Also, insert poop emoji here. But if I didn’t do it, and Simon didn’t do it, someone else was busted. As it appeared the question had been asked the previous day and the neighbor kid and Jude had both been here, I figured it was one of them.

The Firstborn was summoned and immediately (and rather suspiciously?) denied any and all knowledge of the event. Which was funny because we didn’t ask him if he was the one who said it. We asked him if the neighbor kid did it. “I DIDN’T DO IT!!!!” So we spent all day Sunday in a long game of good cop/bad cop. He was super chipper after church until we brought it up again casually and then, just like a opposum who falls over playing dead when sensing imminent danger, he slumped over in the backseat and fell asleep. Which is super weird and never ever happens.

That night, I put Jude to bed and as we sat in his tiny bed after reading books, I sighed deeply. “I sure wonder who it was who said that to Alexa.” I then fell into a nice long awkward pause.

Pitifully with audible gnashing of teeth, he moans: “I just want to stop talking about this because I just am not sure if I said it or not!” Sob.

Internet, I almost laughed. ALLLLLMOST LOST IT.

But then I paused again for a nice awkward minute or two. Sweating him out. And finally he meekly peeped, “Can we sing bedtime songs now?” Sigh. No dice.

Several days later and we still have no answer as to who would ask Alexa some profane vocabulary. But I have a feeling we haven’t heard the end of it. Ermm …

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