Selective Hearing of Monkey Boy

We are driving along Monday evening, all four kids, Andy and myself, rockin' the mini, on the way to Gma's for her birthday bash. The music is playing... probably some old rock song from my favorite CD I recently made for myself (Pat Benatar, Air Supply, you know the likes). The teen and tween in the very back tolerating the music and gazing out the window praying for a better song. The two younger ones in the middle seat, safely tucked into their carseats. Andy and I in the front engaged in convo about his job and new promotion. I occasionally look to Monkey Boy (3) and Baby Love (4) telling them to use inside voices and reminding them to keep their nasty little feet off the seats. They get their feet off the seats only to play the "I'm not touching you" game which is then ended with a pinch on the arm from the Monkey Boy. He's scolded, gets pissed, telling me "She peen me back, she peen me back" and then they go into another conversation. He's not the easiest to understand and sometimes we are WAY off base with what he's trying to tell us.

I gaze out my window just in time to see one car trying to get on the highway and another one speeding up to make sure the oncoming vehicle has to get behind him. "Stupid ass!" I quietly say to the moron driver as I glare at him through the window. How rude! I'm in a minivan loaded down with kids, in the very next lane... the lane he would have to turn into if that car didn't yield, and this asshole thinks the world will end if he doesn't fly up into the bumper of the car in front of him just so there is a car behind him. Like he's going to miss out on the checkered flag in a Nascar race if he ends up behind the oncoming traffic.

Andy continues rambling on about his promotion.

Monkey Boy: "Doop ash, doop ash, doop ash."

I look back at Monkey Boy, who is now looking me dead in the eyes, grins and continues chanting... "Doop ash, doop ash, doop ash."

Andy: What's he saying?

Me: (Wearing that quizocal grin and shrugging my shoulders, pretending like I don't know what the boy is saying)

Andy: (One eyebrow raised) He's saying stupid ass isn't he?

Me: (Still wearing that "stupid ass" grin)

How come when we say something meaningful like "I love you" or "Hold me" or "Good boy" he runs off to find the nearest mud puddle like we haven't uttered a word. But the moment I use a curse word or spout out something without thinking about the mini-people lurking behind me, he chooses to listen... and repeat... and repeat... and repeat what I've said.

I'm sure his bio-mom will be pleased to hear him chanting "doop ash" the next time they are sitting at a family dinner or out with a group of people. This I'm sure will be followed by Baby Love, the tattle teller, telling her bio-mom "He's saying stupid ass. Denise said stupid ass and then Monkey Boy said doop ash. That's what he's saying... stupid ass. Mom what's stupid ass mean?"