The other day, Carter informed me that "it's f*cky in here."
After picking my jaw up off the floor and composing myself I turned to him and asked him what he said.
"Mom, it's f*cky in here!"
*Okay just let me say, I personally don't like that word (neither does Jeremy) and it's not our go-to word when we drop, let' say, a hammer on our foot. You know what I mean? So the odds of Carter saying this word is slim.*
Now, I have to be VERY, VERY careful with how I react because if Carter even senses that this word is in the slightest not a good word to use, he will shout it from the rooftop and say it to EVERYONE he passes by, because he thinks he's a comedian.
"Carter, you know sometimes I can't understand you, so can you tell me one more time what you are trying to say?"
Sighing and rolling his eyes, "Mom, it - is - f*cky- in - here!"
"I'm sorry Carter, but I just don't know what you are trying to say. Is there another way of telling me so I can understand."
"MOOOMMM, no I just think it's f*cky in here."
By now, I'm going to give up and just agree with him because I HAVE NO idea what he is trying to say. But Evan saves the day (he does think he is Carter's personal interpreter).
"Mom, you know when you are about to give us a bath and you tell us we are funky smelling. Carter is saying it's 'funky' in here."
"Yes mom that's what I SAID, I SAID it's funky smelling in here. It's funky!"