Not only did my 3-year-old son catch me dropping an F-bomb, he turned me in.

Believe me, my use of profanity was not intentional. I didn't even think my boy heard it.

I was taking him to pre-school a couple of days ago when it happened. The rain was pouring down and we had to run quickly to the car so he wouldn't get soaked. Once he was buckled in his car seat, I went to my trunk to get an umbrella so we would have it ready when we reached the school. That's when the trunk closed on my fingers.

"Oh, F@*%#!" was my response. I said it under my breath and didn't think about it again. My son didn't mention it. All was fine.

But late in the day I received a phone call from my wife, our home sheriff. "Did you swear in front of our son?" she asked, already armed with the truth. Yep, he told on me, the moment she picked him up from school.

I don't blame the kid. Actually, I'm impressed by his memory at such a young age. I apologized to both of them. Made sure he knew I knew it was a bad word. But he already knew that. How? We're not exactly sure, but he used it one day, correctly, after a toy he loved fell on the ground while he was playing. Maybe he heard it from one of his cousins or on TV. Or maybe from one of us?

In any case, we were shocked. And then we felt shame, thinking he'll use it in front of others. And they'll believe we're terrible parents. Without getting mad, and while trying to stifle our own giggles, we told him it was a bad word.

We must've done a good job. He doesn't use it anymore. Except to tell on Daddy.