Iris's parents are pretty obsessed with her, as they should be. Her dad used to go on and on about how advanced she was, and it became a running joke with us. It wasn't until we would spend time with other children around Iris's age that we realized that he was right and she is not only above-average but is also a little genius.
Iris can carry on a full conversation with any adult. She says things like, "Wait just a moment," and asks to eat avocado and hummus.
And she's so cute that it hurts me sometimes.
About a year ago, Cassie and I decided that it would be great fun to get Iris to start swearing. She's not our kid, and we wouldn't have to deal with the repercussions of a child who swears like a sailor, so why not? We were mild, though, and spent the better part of an evening trying to teach her when to say "Oh, hell."We tried and tried and tried, but Iris seemed to think we were trying to trick her, which we kind of were. She refused.
Apparently we were being a little too vanilla for Iris's taste. A couple of nights ago, Matt and I had dinner with Iris and her parents. After dinner we were all chatting in the living room. Iris was playing with some sort of stacking toy, meticulously stacking rings (she's a bit type-A). When she finally had them all stacked, her kid sister Opal stumbled by and knocked all of them down. Iris, disgusted, mumbled under her breath: "Futtin' Opal. Futtin' futtin' futtin'."
Her parents recognized what she was saying, shot looks at Matt and me that required we not laugh, and then corrected Iris, telling her that futtin' is not a nice word for either adults or kids to use and that she was not to use the word again.
Futtin' parents, always ruining all the fun.
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