What the F?

Yesterday as I was chopping some veggies for dinner, I nicked my finger and let out an F-bomb.

L: “Mom, I think it would be more appropriate for you to stop using that sort of language. If you’re telling me not to use it, I think you should stop using it. You’re sending a confusing message.”


L: “Do you think you can stop using that sort of language? Because you’re sort of telling me it’s okay. And I know it’s not.”

M: (DREAM SEQUENCE: You betcha, I will not say s–t, f–k, a–h–e, d-bag, d–k wad, h–l to the no. I will abstain from such language.)

M: “Got it. No more potty mouth.”

L: “Great. What’s for dinner?”

What Day Is It?

L comes down this morning feeling pretty good about himself. He got a thumb’s up from the doc, he’s conquered all of his homework. He’s on fire.

L: “It’s Thursday. Let’s go over the spelling one more time.”

M: “Uh, it’s Wednesday.”

L: “NO WAY! I did all of that extra homework and studying and it’s only WEDNESDAY!? Geez.”

M: “Yup, and you still need to brush your teeth.”



Past Tense

2008 again

I picked up L from preschool today and there was a note from the director saying “please see me.” ZOiNKS! I approached her with trepidation and said, “okay, so what’s up?” She asked me if I could volunteer for an art project on Friday. The relief that I felt was immeasurable. I actually said aloud, “Oh, thank GOD. I thought L had injured a kitten or something.”

Hurt kitten jokes are a laugh a minute, especially at a preschool. At least I didn’t mention a burlap sack.