“MOMMY! #2son said the S word!” shouted my #1son from upstairs.
My heart skipped a beat. I racked my brain, trying to remember when I might have slipped. Was it when I spilled coffee all over my blouse getting into the car yesterday morning? Or when I rolled through that stop sign and THEN saw the police car in my rear view mirror?
“MOMMY! #2son said the S word! He needs to go in time out!” #1 son is now standing in front of me, demanding justice.
“What exactly did he say?” I said, sternly. “And remember. You’re tattling – so it better be worth it.”
I held my breath, waiting for his reply.
“He said ‘Shut up’ and you’re not supposed to say ‘shut up,’ ” #1son said, triumphantly.
I breathed a sigh of relief and said, “You’re right. That’s not nice and we don’t say shut up. Just ignore him.”
I led #1son back upstairs to play so I could finish dinner.
“Mom, there are two S words, right?”
Oh no. Heart pounding, I scowled. That darn husband of mine. Letting loose like a sailor in front of the boys. Leaving me to deal with potty mouth. Next I’ll be getting phone calls from parents. I could just see it, unwrapping the bar of soap, placing it between his teeth – my husband, not the boys.
“Riiiiggghhhtt,” I said very slowly.
“Yep. There’s shut up and stupid. And I don’t say those words. Those are bad words!” #1son says, proudly.
My heart starts beating again at a comfortable pace. I’m able to exhale with ease.
How I dodged the bullet this time, I honestly don’t know.
Thank goodness it wasn’t the F word. (Freak, people. Geez!)