Mom Fail

As I was shepherding my beautiful angelic blonde cherub downstairs this morning I hear this escape her lips:

Dammit.

She looks up at me. I freeze, look at her. I try to stay calm and nonreactive. But she knows-she can tell she's onto something. For chrissakes, she's got the intonation right and everything! She's almost flirting with me:

Dammit.

A sly little smile and she proceeds downstairs.

*sigh* Do I really say that a lot?

Chris: You say that, like 50 times a day!