LOVE is a 4-Letter Word, Too!

The other day, Big Daddy and I were tossing around a ball with the kids and the dog. It was such fun, watching Kona run with unbridled enthusiasm! We all had a huge laugh watching Kona attempt and then succeed at picking up a full-sized soccer ball in his mouth and then take off running at full speed. After a while, M wandered off elsewhere in the yard to do his own thing, and Kona had spent his energy bunny-hopping after a red and white Nerf football and was presently laying in the grass panting.
BD and I were standing in the garage, he with his can of beer and I with my glass of chardonnay, appreciating the afternoon and the rare bit of quality time we have together these days. No one was yelling, or misbehaving; no one was clinging to me or purposefully eliciting “negative attention.” We were all simply enjoying spending time together and it was everything I hoped it could be…Calm, peaceful…perfect.
As we contemplated our evening, V entered the garage and kicked the soccer ball Kona had been playing with…

“FU^%ing thing!” she said matter-of-factly.
Big Daddy and I stopped talking and turned to face her, jaws agape. I was the first one to speak…

“WHAT did you say, honey?!” SURELY I didn’t hear my sweet little Princess say the “EFF” word…

“FU*#ing thing?” She said again, this time with the emphasis as a question.


BD now turned to face each other…TOTALLY confused. My first, gut reaction was to laugh. I mean, I myself swear like a pirate, but I have the upmost of restraint in front of the kids (I do, right?!) BD had a look on his face like he had just tasted poop…as if the sound of his sweet baby girl saying “F*^k” left a literal bad taste in his mouth.
“Oh no, honey!” I said, firmly and friendly, “That is a BIG mistake word…I don’t EVER want to hear you say it again, understand?”
“Understand!” she said, gleefully accepting my gentle reprimand.
…But then, out of sheer curiosity (and because I just needed confirmation for what I already knew…)
“Honey,” I asked, “Where did you hear that word?”
But instead of answering, she simply raised one single, outstretched arm and pointed index finger. At ME. Yes, the source of the contaminant was her Momma (and my potty mouth.) Just for the record...V did NOT get in trouble for cursing, she just didn't know better and always wants to me like Momma. I mean, the kid had a point. And I've decided to *try* to keep my swearing in check, despite my "Ahoy Matey" temperament.

Now ain’t that some fucking shit.