I used the opportunity to update him on the state of the Blogosphere, seeing that he has just STARTED A BLOG! Normally any mention of blogging results in a smile, a nod and a few strategically placed "oh yeahs" while his eyes glaze over, so it's safe to say I was taking advantage of having a captive audience.
"I just use The Weekend Whine vlogs to have a bit of a bitch session" I sighed.
From the back seat, Tricky chimed in...
"Bitch, bitch, bitch."
Map Guy wasn't happy. "Did your son just swear?". Because he's my son when he's naughty and his son when he's awesome, obviously. I felt so ashamed.
"Ah FUCK!" OK, so that probably wasn't the best response. I expect my Mother of The Year nomination any day now.
I'd only just mentioned on here that he has a bit of a speech delay and he decides it's time to start parroting every. single. thing. I say and his words have exploded as if a switch has been flicked. Getting through a serve Alphaghetti now takes half an hour because he insists on naming all the letters before eating them!
To be honest, I swear so much that I'm surprised it has taken this long, speech delay or not. One of Tricky's first ever words (other than mum and dad) was duck when he was about ten months old. For half a second before we followed his line of sight to see a rubber duck, we were convinced he'd dropped the F bomb as his first proper word. Now I know I'm a bit bogan but I'm not that bogan that it's something I'd be proud of.
In the days following the backseat bitching he's also tried to say bastard after some idiot said it in front of him. OK so it was me again, shuddup. But because he didn't completely say it I'm not even going to count it - because if I can't change the rules to suit myself, what's the point?
|I'm in a box, bitch|