So you drop the F bomb not too often but often enough for me to be embarrassed, and though I blame it mostly on your father, who feels words can't be 'bad' so he uses it as often as ESPN.com, I have been known to drop a Bomb or two. Plus, I AM the Vice President of Swearing at In-Laws in the club "moms who drink and swear" on Facebook so I can't innocently say I'm not to blame, even though my preferred curse word is the "S-missle" and is usually directed towards the in-laws, and not 2 year olds. Or i use the term 'mothergrabber', a nice term your Daddy coined when your oldest sister was your age to prevent us from using the alternative, clearly showing what happens between the first child and the third.
Yesterday I went to register your sister for her new school, and when I turned to sign some papers, you had grabbed an ornament from the school office Christmas tree and shattered to the ground. Clearly assuming it would bounce, one would hope.
When we returned home, you found a box of Ritz Bitz your sister had stashed and proceeded to open it, pull apart the crackers, eat the peanut butter inside, and then smoosh the two crackers into the ground, as you were already sucking the peanut butter off the next cracker victim.
These incidents may or may not have caused me to drop the F bomb.
However, I am not writing them down because they frustrate me. As I was blowing bubbles yesterday and you were yelling, "Caught it! caught it!" I knew that these are merely moments in time and soon will be forgotten. Soon, you will be sitting at a computer typing away on email or something completely ignoring me. All you want right now is a bit of my attention, and I am trying so hard to give you as much as I possibly can. Every time I lose my patience with you I try to collect it back again because I know you will not get that excited about bubbles for very much longer. I know that soon bubbles will just be bubbles, and a broken ornament will just be a mess to clean up. Now though, it is a chance for me to interact with you, to teach you, to show you the world and how great and wonderful it truly can be. It's also allowing me to learn a few lessons of my own.
So I think the F-bombs are OK, as long as we don't say them in front of Grandma anymore, K? Heavens knows she's gone through enough lessons with me as her daughter.