Saturday, October 27, 2007

For the love of ....

I don't curse very often now that I have a young soul to be responsible for. I now say things like "son of a biscuit!" instead of the choice expletives that may have exited my mouth at previous times of my life. My husband has cleaned up his vocab, too, although cursing is an art form among the guys he currently works with, so once in a while a *bleeeeeeep* will slip out at home.

The other day, M was in the living room, trying to change her clothes, when her shirt got stuck over her head. She's standing there, arms over her head, voice muffled by the shirt covering her face, and she says, in an irritated voice, "Oh, for the love of bitch!"

I guess I should be glad that she hasn't heard the more common phrases often enough to get them right.

I couldn't help myself when she said it. I laughed. Kind of a lot. There was no stopping it. But then I had to conjure up a straight face and tell her that she could never, ever say that again or she would get sent to the "think about it" area at school, or maybe even to the principal's office. She thought about it and said, "Oh, for the love of mama!" I let it go at that.

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