Last night, while carving jack o' lanterns in fine American tradition (Halloween's not nearly as popular here as in the States), I slipped with the knife, cutting something I didn't mean to (not flesh, fortunately). Frustrated, I said "shit!" before carrying on.
Not five minutes later, Giuia dropped something in the other room, provoking her to use the same word.
Our precocious not-quite two and a half year old walked around the rest of the night giggling and yelling "Shit!" at random times. Oh that's going to go over really well with her teachers at school tomorrow...
I'm going to let my bride explain this one to the grandmother next time they see her.