When Jimmy was about 3 years old, he was the shadow of his daddy. Where ever his daddy went, he followed when he could. Several times, Jimmy witnessed his dad trying to crank our old Farmall tractor. It was so stubborn about starting which made Wayne's quick temper flare and spew a few words that one can not find in the Bible. To Jimmy, the old Farmall looked like his tricycle. He often played like it was a tractor while making all of the proper sounds.

One day after a big rain, I was standing at the sink watching Jimmy play in the yard from the kitchen door. I saw him deliberately push his tricycle into a small mud puddle. He gave it sort of a hard shove down into the ground, then walked around to the front and kicked the front tire. Then, he pretended to push the tricycle back and forth as if he was stuck. Again, he went to the front wheel and kicked the tire. After he repeated this procedure a few times I walked to the door to see what he was doing. Before I even had a chance to ask him what was wrong, I heard him say "dot dam tuh bich" Even though he spoke Dutchy, I plainly understood what he had just said. I was shocked and hurt that my little boy would use language like that. I yelled "Jimmy, why did you say that?" Jimmy was a little boy who rarely did or said anything wrong. He was such a dream to raise. He turned to me and as if apologetic and said "Dat’s whut daddy tays all dah time."

How could I possibly stay angry with this cute little innocent tow head? That evening when his daddy came home I really did rip into him about his offensive language.