And Then I Said They Could Use Profanity

Living far from family I am always looking for a way to make a celebration something extraordinarily special. Since we don't have the smiling faces of my aunts and uncles staring back at them over a birthday cake glowing from a sea of candles, we make sure our every milestone is a memory. One year I woke the kids in bed with a donut, the next a dozen balloons tired to the car at pick up.

(this is where a segue should go)

You should know, I am one of those parents that fall in a fit of laughter when a kid drops a F bomb. Kids that drop their suckers from the target cart and cry out a loud 'SHIT' crack me up. When I catch a glimpse of a sibling spat, and shoving ensues, I secretly hope someone calls someone an asshole.

Yesterday, to celebrate Missy B's 10th birthday, I said she could use profanity.

On the way to dinner from the backseat, Missy B was really losing some sleep over trying to use the word 'damn'. SHe struggled. SHe stressed. She hemmed and hawed. Would it make her bad? Would she be able to stop afterwards?

Mr.T made me fall in love with him again when he said "Here, B, we will take the privilege away so you don't have to stress about it anymore. It's good you don't feel comfortable to use that language."

Damn him.

V pipes up, "Can I say it then? Since Missy B won't, can I use her bad word for today?"

"Sure" I say impatiently awaiting for one of my kids to say a bad word. Come on, make it good, I was thinking.

"DAMNIT!!!" V cried out.

I giggled.

"I can't master this DAMN level in Zelda!"

I snickered more.

"Will you move out of my DAMN way?!"

I was really about to lose it.

We climb out of the car making our way into Missy B's fav dinner spot, where V purposely falls to the snowy ground "AWW! DAMN!"

Mr.T corrals them in and suggest swear word time is over, I was just getting into it. I was about to raise the bar telling them for the next 60 seconds they could ante up and say hell.

We make it through dinner, ice cream and a japanese rendition of 'happy birthday' without any swear words where someone else could hear.

V, feeling awfully comfortable in his new vernacular, jumps in the back seat afterwards and says

"On my birthday, I want to say G -damnit. Or maybe just S-H-I-T. Or is F-C-U-K not as bad as S-H..."

I won't win mother of year, not in a traditional setting, but according to my kids, I am the mutherfucking bomb.