Things We Learn From Peter Griffin

I remember being 8 years old and running around our neighborhood with no parents in sight. There was a great place we called the "Dirt Pile", and it was just that. A few empty lots in the back of our neighborhood where three huge piles of dirt had been bulldozed and left. Trees and brush had begun to take over the hills and they resembled an oasis in the middle of a desert. Of course we were forbidden to play there- and of course we played there anyway. That day, many years ago, there were three of us playing in the little valley: me, my brother, and his friend Mike. I had learned a new phrase recently and was trying to use it every chance I got. To every statement or question I would answer:

"No shit Sherlock."

I knew if my Dad caught wind of my potty mouth he would switch me until I couldn't sit down for a week. When my brother threatened to tell, I reminded him:

"You tell on me, I'll tell Dad I saw you and Mike setting fire to your GI Joes."

First rule in sparring with siblings: you always keep an inventory of dirt on them.

I was cursing, but I was smart enough not to do it in front of my parents because there would be consequences.

Fast forward to December 10, 2010. I picked the boys up from school and told them I needed to return a movie.

"Will it take long?" E whined in the back seat. he was in a hurry to get home to play X-Box.

"No, it will only take a few minutes," I said. "Need I remind you this is the movie we rented for you two."

"Can we stay in the car?" C asked.

"Yes," I answered, knowing I could park directly in front of the Redbox. (Movies for a buck? Seriously? Who uses Blockbuster anymore?)

"Thank Christ."

"What did you say?!" The children were scared. As I repeated the question, giving them no time to respond, my voice had reached a pitch that only dogs could hear.

"Where did you hear that?"

Silence from the backseat.

E finally piped up, "We heard it on Family Guy Star Wars."

Oh, crap. The Family Guy Star Wars episode. It was my idea to let them watch it on the way to WV over Thanksgiving. MJ had objected, but I'd watched it before and assured him that there was nothing really bad in it. If he got wind of this little gem the kids picked up, I'd never hear the end of it. Already when he would catch me watching Family Guy after the kids were in bed, I would feel ashamed as he rolled his eyes and sighed. I'd resorted to quickly changing the channel when he came into the room to HGTV.

When we got home, I had a long talk with the boys about appropriate language and told them they would not be allowed to watch the Star Wars episode of Family Guy again. Later that night, once the whining died down, I heard the boys snickering in the living room.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

E immediately pointed at C, "C said a dirty word!"

I was livid. We had literally just talked about this. I would have been smacked in the mouth for saying dirty words. My Dad jumped all over me at the mall once for saying 'freakin' -and I was 13, not 6. I told C, "That is it. Go to your room and bring me a dollar from your bank and we're going to put it in a Swear Jar. Every time you say a bad word, you are going to do this. If you have no money, you will have to write an IOU and whatever money you get-allowance, birthday, whatever- will go in the jar. Now go."

C stomped upstairs to retrieve the money.

While he was out of earshot, I asked E, "What did he say?"

E leaned close and whispered, "ASS- teroid."

Ah, Christ.