We are definitely going to need a swear word jar in our house.
I try to keep the language clean–it’s definitely cleaner than our floors–but there are days. And kids, as you know, really don’t miss much.
Recently K-Pants locked my keys in the car. This sh#t happens.
He thought he was being helpful locking the doors from the inside and then closing them all. There they were: my keys and phone and wallet all sitting on the passenger seat. So I dropped the F-bomb. And then I stomped my feet and screamed F**k again.
If I could do it all over again, I would try not to swear.
But let’s be honest: I would probably swear more, and maybe hit the car. Frankly, I thought I handled the situation pretty well.
Now K-Pants has a new favorite word and he’s fascinated that he can’t say it.
Why not, Mommy? Because it’s a bad word. But you can say shucks. Can I say truck? Yes. Can I say guck? Yes. And you can say buck. Can I say muck? Yup…So on the bright side he’s learning to rhyme; and once he and Baby Woww and the Disco Worms start to hold me accountable, the swear word jar might earn enough money to take us on vacation.
momsicle 