Dropping the "F" Bomb

To keep our family afloat financially, I bartend on Saturday nights. Even if we had enough money to pay the bills, which never seems to be the case, I would still bartend one day a week. Not only do I make some green, I get to meet some pretty interesting folks and make new friends. It's my one night a week, although I am working, that I get to have some good ol' fashioned fun for myself and converse with (gasp) ACTUAL ADULTS.

I love to talk about my children to the guests that visit the bar, especially to those that have children because I feel they can relate to- and tolerate- my stories better. To one friendly couple in their late-forties-possibly-early-fifties, I explained that Kylan is really starting to take off in the English language department. I guess my story should have come with a disclaimer: WARNING- What I am about to tell you does contain profanity.

Me: So my son, Ky, was in the backseat of his Gigi's car (his grandma's car) and says, "Gigi, I'm sorry." Gigi says, "It's okay honey, you didn't do anything wrong." Kylan apologizes again, "Gigi, I'm sorry," and concludes with, "Fuck, it's a bad word."

Mrs. Couple Lady: Oh My Word! Now where would he have learned that word?!

She says this with utter disgust. She's now looking at me like she needs to call child protective services. I keep an eye on how her hand seems to be subconsciously moving toward her cell phone. This phenomenon in itself demonstrates how a Ouija board actually works.

Me: Uh, well, I think, um, that he may have picked it up while I was driving. I say some pretty awful things sometimes, uh, but I'm a good mom, and I don't condone that type of language.

Meanwhile, I'm not going to lie to ya, I thought Kylan's use of the word was both very honest and hilarious. Of course, inappropriate on every level, but it just goes to show how attentive our children are. They are like little sponges, absorbing our every reaction and every word. I will say, that although I do not swear like a sailor, the occasional "F" bomb does make an appearance when I am fucking upset. See?

I guess I read my Mr. and Mrs. Bar Couple incorrectly. I expected a hearty chuckle from the story, so I highly doubt they'll be coming in on my Saturday night shift any longer. I'm not G rated enough for their liking. F them.