four letter words
In keeping with the double standard that is typical in the Din household, my husband is allowed to throw around such choice words as duck f%#$er, but I am not allowed to swear.
I’m not too upset at Ali’s decree, however, because I agree that swearing is a tacky habit – especially for a girl. But sometimes, no matter how hard I try, these little four letter words escape my big mouth.
Like last week, when Maya and I were nearly mowed over by a Toyota Hybrid (note to L.A. Hybrid drivers: being more fuel-efficient than me doesn’t give you license to be a bad driver) as we were crossing the street. Suffice to say that I had to explain “Mama doesn’t always make the best choices when she’s mad. Don’t ever repeat that word. Ever.”
And then of course there was yesterday when the guy who came to deliver my new plants insisted on discussing Maya’s only child status. Yes, the freaking plant guy was giving me a lecture about how only children are no bueno. I kid you not.
“Please,” I begged as he started in on me. “Let’s not talk about it.”
But in the typical fashion of someone who knows it all, he wouldn’t drop it. And of course a four letter word slipped out. And of course I felt tacky. And of course there was nothing I could do about it.
And of course it’ll happen again.
On the plus side? Unlike my husband my swear words don’t involve animals! And around here that’s something to be proud of.