Sometimes I screw up. Sometimes I say bad words in front of my kids. Fucking sue me.
So we went to this sweet little book store near our house called Books&Books. I let the kids each buy a book and then we sat on the patio. It was so wonderful. Grady was reading his comic book. Annie Bea was reading some story about princesses, obviously. I was sipping a prosecco. The wind was blowing gently and there was a platter of cheese on the table. Sunshine and happiness everywhere.
An old lady came out to sit on the patio. It was just her, my kids and me. That’s when Annie dropped her book. She picked it up and huffed.
Annie Bea: SHIT, I lost my page.
The lady raised her eyebrows and waited for my reaction. I raised my glass and gave her a wink. Don’t mind my daughter. She’s a trucker.
Later that day we were out with some friends. The mother tells me this story.
Mother: We were riding in the car and the kids were fighting. Chloe called her brother an “armpit hair.” I told her that’s not nice. Then I asked her where she heard that term. She said, “I heard it from Annie Bea’s mom.”
No. Uh uh. No mam. You can blame Annie Bea’s “shit” on me but I refuse to take the fall for “armpit hair.” I mean, it’s funny and I’ll definitely tuck it in my back pocket for the next fight I have with Jason, but no. “Armpit hair” was not my idea.
Kids these days. What happened to good old fashioned name calling? Like dirtbag and dweeb?