. . . where he gets some of his Potty Mouth words.
Naked Strike Week Six is underway. And this has been a BAAAAAAAAAAAD week for Management. A cousin died Monday (very sad). My father, who is already legally blind may lose his "good eye" (jokingly called such since it's not very good at all), and thus would be totally blind. I am flying to Florida in a week, with Demon Baby in tow to give my mom a little break (note the irony--flying to Florida WITH Demon Baby for a week to give someone a rest). Oldest Son has a bullying band teacher thus creating school anxiety. Tuition bills for college (gulp). Flying Oldest home for Thanksgiving proved financially impossible ($850), so she has to go to my sister's in Boston to the tune of about $500--still no small amount. I miss her terribly. Just a BAAAAAAAAAD week.
So last night, Management had a breakdown. After speaking to my dad on the phone and getting bad "good eye" news, after Demon Baby threw 50 (count 'em) PENNIES down the garbage disposal (entailing me hurting my hand fishing them out), and then tkaing a box of Honey Nut Cheerios and adding water to it to "make soup." After deciding socket wrenches (used to fix something he broke) would make good projectiles . . . Management freaked.
And so Management was mean. Management was most especially mean to Oldest Son, who didn't deserve it. And so Management went in to Oldest Son (who had forgotten his band book at school, thus incurring Management's crabby wrath) and said, "I'm really sorry that I was being such a bitch." Management said it softly. She gave Oldest a hug.
Demon Baby overheard. Demon Baby started jumping up and down (naked) and screaming, "YES! You really are the BIGGEST BITCH! The biggest most humongasaurus bitch ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
And I was. But then we all laughed. I couldn't help myself. He was so darn gleeful. And then I thought . . . oh, goodness . . . that is SO going to come out at an oh-so-inconvenient moment.
The Curse of the Potty Mouth.