Wednesday, February 08, 2006


The Muralist dropped the F-bomb last night. I was so surprised that my jaw literally dropped. It was out of the blue. Keep in mind that thus far the epithets of choice in our house are "dang it" and "moo cow". (No, I have no idea how that got to be a phrase indicating frustration.) There was no hesitation, no sense that she was testing it out, just an, "Oh, F***"

I gave her a quick, "That's a no-no word; bad manners." schtick and dropped it. Don't make too big a deal of it or it will get pulled out in a real fury. At that moment though I had a brief but horrifying senario running through my head. You see my kids frequently play with the pastors' kids and I don't want my children to teach them the f-bomb. The Muralist gleefully infecting her whole Sunday school class with the f-word. Like that scene in The Christmas Story when Ralphie says Schwartz taught him the word; I don't want to get an upset call from another parent and have to administer the swift hand of karmic justice.

No comments: