The five of us were headed to St. Paul to visit the Italian Festival and eat some good food from Cossetta's, (hooray for cannoli!) when Hubs stopped the van short at a light.
"Dang it!" M shouted.
I looked across at Hubs quizzically.
"Dang it!" N echoed with appropriate inflection.
"Wonder where they learned that?" I asked.
"Guys, we don't use that word," Hubs responded.
"What's dang it?" N asked.
"What's dang it?" M repeated.
"It's like oh bumpers, or oh carrot sticks," I tried explaining using expressions from their favorite Disney. Jr. Show.
"Dang it!" M yelled again.
"DANG IT!" N yelled, besting his brother.
"Ok guys, knock it off. Where did you hear that anyhow?" I said.
"I may have said that when I changed N's fourth dirty diaper this afternoon," Hubs confessed (I think to avoid being tattled on).
"Dang it! Dang it Dang it!" The boys sang in the back seat.
"Well, I'm glad you said dang it and not something else."