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The Least Of My Worries

This week my mother-in-law and one of my sisters-in-law will be assisting with the little man while I’m at the hospital…and while I recuperate. They are both wonderful women, but a little more straightlaced than my family members. So I worry that the boy will bust out with some of his colorful language while in their care. He’s picked it up in recent months from various friends of ours, family on my side, and, well, I have to admit…yours truly. This afternoon we were returning from an errand-running adventure. The rush hour traffic was densely packed, so when the driver in front of me suddenly slammed on their brakes I had to do the same. I could hear and feel the giant jug of apple juice behind me as it flew off the seat and crushed the bags below it. I should have bitten my tongue, but it just erupted…a full-force “SHIT!” The little man’s reaction…a serious giggling fit, followed by sing-song swearing all the way home. Oh, and he threw in the effenheimer for good measure.