Bad Mummy Diaries: Part Two

I don't have a lot of bad habits these days. I've stopped smoking, I don't drink that much, I don't do drugs and I only occassionally binge myself into a choc-coma. I do however, swear. Quite a bit. So fucking sue me.

However, in an effort to be a better mother, I try not to swear in front of GG. Mostly, I succeed. There was the time I shot myself in the foot by exclaiming to my husband that "parking will be a bitch in the city". Guess which word GG choose to pick up out of that? Parenting: fail. Although we did kind of manage to kind of convince her I said "beach". Kind of.

Anyprofanity, in an effort to not swear so much, I have had to radically alter my lingo when behind the wheel of my car. This is when you are most likely to to hear a litany of just about every swear you can think of (yes, once I even shocked myself when I used the C word). Hey, don't blame me, blame the fucktards who got their licence out of a cereal box. Now however, when GG is in the car, I have re-programmed myself to say the word "muppet" in place of the more colourful words in my vocabulary. "It's called merging! Ever heard of it? You MUPPET!!!!" You get the picture.

So the other day, we are all having quality family time in front of the TV (shut up, is so not an oxymoron) and GG happens to see an ad with these weird fruit-humaniod amalgam puppets in it. When she asked her Dad what on Earth they were, he replied with, "They're sort of puppets, you know like Fraggle Rock, or The Muppets?"

GG pipes up, "No, Daddy, muppets drive cars and make Mummy cranky!".

Turns out there's a lot my husband can say with just a raised eyebrow and a smirk.