When I describe my sister to people, one of the first words I always use is "hilarious". I can rattle off story after story about funny things she's said and done throughout the years. And while I recall these stories in humor, my mom often recalls the same stories with an element of embarrassment as well. Because "Leanne stories" can usually be attributed to her innocent candor, inhibition, and overall lack of a filter. If something is on Leanne's mind, she says it. She says it regardless of who is there to hear it - grandma, Dad's boss, the parish priest - it doesn't matter. If it crosses Leanne's mind, it comes out of her mouth, appropriate or not.
But as Josie's little vocabulary continues to emerge, my perspective is changing a bit. Suddenly I'm empathizing more and more with my mom's experience and I'm realizing that, despite my best efforts to teach Josie to be lady-like, polite, and well-mannered, I may be fighting an uphill battle.
Take yesterday, for example. Josie experienced a little bout of *ahem* flatulence. Being in the early stages of potty training, Josie immediately declared "Poop!". I ceased the opportunity to have a "teachable moment" and I replied "No, that wasn't poop. You just passed gas. Say 'excuse me'."
But did Josie hurriedly scribble notes from my latest lecture in her "Etiquette 101" notebook with the hopes of someday graduating with honors? Of course not. She zeroed in on the new terminology, "pass gas," and she said it OVER and OVER and OVER until I finally surrendered the pursuit of propriety and started filming it...
But as Josie's little vocabulary continues to emerge, my perspective is changing a bit. Suddenly I'm empathizing more and more with my mom's experience and I'm realizing that, despite my best efforts to teach Josie to be lady-like, polite, and well-mannered, I may be fighting an uphill battle.
Take yesterday, for example. Josie experienced a little bout of *ahem* flatulence. Being in the early stages of potty training, Josie immediately declared "Poop!". I ceased the opportunity to have a "teachable moment" and I replied "No, that wasn't poop. You just passed gas. Say 'excuse me'."
But did Josie hurriedly scribble notes from my latest lecture in her "Etiquette 101" notebook with the hopes of someday graduating with honors? Of course not. She zeroed in on the new terminology, "pass gas," and she said it OVER and OVER and OVER until I finally surrendered the pursuit of propriety and started filming it...
Lord help me - she's only 2! Let the embarrassing stories begin!








