Freakin' Mom

I sent my kids to their after-school care program the other day, which we don't do that often so they aren't that used to it. When I walked in, Samuel came running over shouting "FINALLY!" over and over and over. It was a little touching and a little overwhelming.

Later that evening, he said to me: "Mom, when we were waiting for you to pick us up, I was wondering why you were taking so long, and I meant to say 'where's my crazy mom' but instead, and I don't know how this happened, it just came out, but I said 'where's my freakin' mom." He was bothered by this, because he knew he had said something approaching a swear word. (Is this a swear word? I think so...but I'm not really sure...)

Now, I could spend time and brain cells trying to trace back where he picked up this jewel -- I would admit to it if I thought he got it from me, and I don't really think this is one of his dad's preferred curses -- but I was sufficiently impressed that (a) he had some awareness that it probably wasn't such a great thing to say and (b) he told me about it very openly. So I just laughed a little, asked if anyone else had heard him (would I be hearing about this from a program staff person? Apparently not, he had just said this to himself, out of earshot of anyone else...whew!), and moved on.

It was cute. I didn't know that swearing could be cute. But there you go, yet another example of how much parenting teaches me! Here's my lil' truck driver:

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