A few weeks ago, the wee Pancake (my daughter, age 8), and I were waiting for a table at the Olive Garden. It was crowded.
Some dude was using his cellphone while clogging our space. Very loudly.
"That FUCKING BITCH".
My head whips around, jaw dropped in disbelief.
I mean, it's not like you can miss a small child standing LESS THAN A FOOT AWAY.
THUMB WRESTLING WITH HER MOMMA!
This is what we do while waiting for things, we thumb wrestle.
I look directly at Pancake. She has a smile on her face. A naughty smile. Eyes all wide. She knows swears have been said in her vincity.
I decide to take the bull by the horns, acknowledge the swear, call it out for the ugliness it is. I say, "Did you hear what that man said?,"
"Yes!", she peeped. "That man called somebody a stupid fish!"
And no, I didn't correct her :)
IN NEW NEWS . . .
My obsession with Mumford and Sons continues to grow unabashed like.
It has everything a girl needs, blue grass, chorus that you can shout out in the car, MOPEDS!!! O!! be still my beating heart!
DANGNAMMITT!!! Who wants to be in a band with me??? Come on!! I could totally be the lead singer, I mean, what I lack in vocal talent I would totally make up for with my babeness!!!
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