The Devil Wears Osh-Kosh

I was so excited when Luke (3 yrs old) learned to talk. I remember thinking, "When, oh when will it happen?" but gone are those days. In their place I have been left with Mr. Comeback. This snarky little fella always has to have the last word. If there is a button to be pushed, rest assured he will find it and mash it until it's broken. I can't blame myself for everything he's learned. After all, what kind of wife would I be if I didn't blame my husband for 99% of my son's bad behavior?
My dear husband, Brantley, introduced Luke to Looney Tunes. It seemed harmless enough at the time, until Luke discovered Fog Horn Leg Horn, and I say, I say that chicken has one smart mouth on him. Luke usually has a hard time interpreting exactly what this character is saying, but the sentiment is the same. Case in point, I was told yesterday to" keep your big mouse shot." I gave him exactly two warnings before introducing him to a bar of lemon glycerin soap. Now, before you go calling me a child abuser, let me say that it's organic, and therefore healthier than a Happy Meal (which by the way, I would NEVER let my son eat), AND it's not like he's belching bubbles. I guess you could say that my method worked because he hasn't repeated the phrase since. He did, however, ask me to go snipe hunting last night. I'm pretty sure he's plotting revenge.