Badmom
I was sitting on the front stoop when the kids got home from their Sacred Art class at church last night. Their teacher is the music director at our church, so they do all kinds of artsy things in their classes – singing, dancing, crafts, bells, etc. They love the class and the teacher, and it’s a very fun break from traditional Sunday school (that they attend on Sundays).
The teacher had asked that I send my husband with them yesterday, to class. I usually am the helper, but the kids were scheduled to make Mother’s Day gifts, and she didn’t want me there.
Son-man was walking up the steps, and I said, “Hey son, what’d you make me today?”
“A brace ….. oh mannnnnnnnnnn, I wasn’t supposed to tell you!”
I giggled.
As he opened the door to the house, I heard him say a lovely four-letter word that starts with S and ends with T.
When I stopped giggling, I went into the house.
“Ummm, boy, you are not supposed to say that not-nice word. It’s an adult word, not a kid word.” I explained.
“Mom,” he emphatically replied, “I’m a MAN, so I can say it.”
I reminded him that he’d just had his ninth birthday, and a MAN was considered an ADULT when they turned 18, so he still had a few years before he’d be allowed to say those kind of words.
And at dinner, I had to confess. I knew he’d be the weakest link, and that’s why I got him. I wasn’t really trying to find out what they’d made me – I wanted to see if he could keep a secret! Apparently NOT!
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