Due to a confluence of events, I ended up working today which left Ed home alone with the kids (Kathy was celebrating the long weekend with friends in Baltimore). Well, not really alone since I was in my home office, but the kids didn't know that, so Ed was effectively home alone with them. At 1:30, when Ed checked in with me and did a little dance that he had both children napping, he broke the news that Connor had learned his first curse word. As noted before in these pages, Connor will not use a word until he can use it in context, which means that it's possible to have the occasional slip of the tongue with no ramifications. But you only get so many free passes, and apparently those free passes are up.
As Ed was slathering sunscreen all over Connor's very pale skin, he set the sunscreen down, probably about two inches from his leg. Helen, seizing opportunity, quietly picked up the sunscreen. She had been standing next to Ed asking for mo' 'screen and he had repeatetdly told her she had enough. But Helen clearly wasn't taking no for an answer, and Ed had forgotten to replace the cap on the sunscreen. When Helen squeezed the tube, the sunscreen went all over the rug. Ed turned around a moment too late to see it all happen, and exclaimed "Jesus Christ, Helen" - because you must know, the elapsed time between when Ed set the sunscreen down and Helen squirted it all over was probably five seconds, at best.
Ed set about cleaning up the mess, and Connor, always eager to help joined in. Apparently, as Connor was trying to wash the stain out of the carpet, he was muttering "Jesus Christ, Helen".