A red carpet, a stained ceiling, a gallon of white paint, and a sleeping baby were the factors that converged to cause Eloise to lose her colorful vocabulary. With the baby sleeping, she took the opportunity to do some quick painting in the next room.

It's a very small room, so there's no need to fuss with covering things and putting some paint in a smaller cup. I know I shouldn't set this gallon of white paint on top of a ladder, but just a few strokes of a brush and the room will look much brighter.

BLOOP

"SHIT!"

The baby woke up and said, "Shit. Shit. Shit." It was her first word, and her favorite word.

She said it at Grandma's house: "Shit. Shit. Shit." Giggle.

...and at the grocery store. "Shit. Shit. SHIT."

...and everywhere in between, all the time, until Eloise could teach her to point and say "see it."

I was that baby, and I'm almost forty years old. My parents were so ashamed by my early grasp of the word "shit" that I have never heard either of them say a curse word in front of me, to this day. It's sweet that they still think I'm impressionable.