Friday, April 8, 2016

But you say it Mama

Do as I say... just don't say what I say.

Fynn is a perceptive child, and she definitely picks up on my potty mouth. Some how I hold it in while at work, or around other people's kids, but it comes out in front of Fynn (and Bentley) and sometimes that means awkward moments like these:

Exhibit A:

In the car months ago after a rough (r.o.u.g.h) day and long car ride with both kids screaming.

Fynn: "Don't say F*****g Mama, it's not nice."

Valid point, Fynn. Valid point


Exhibit B:

Easter dinner. Drew's whole family and mine.


Fynn: (turns to me) "Where the hell is Lyssa?" 

Exhibit C:

In the drive thru line, and a cranky old guy honks his horn, flips me off, and calls me a moron while almost hitting my car because I didn't move out of his way. Apparently I was supposed to drive over the car in front of me in order to accomodate his van into the drive thru lane.

Fynn: "Well, that was f*****g rude"

Yes, yes it was


Therefore, I've had a good long chat with Fynn about why we don't drop F-bombs or other similar curses and promised both her and myself that I will keep those words in my head and attempt to be a better role model... or at least minimize the chance that she'll pull out a few of those choice words in even more awkward situations. 

Mom of the Year- right here, folks. 

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