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Donkeys don’t drive very well

I’ve written before about how I used to suffer from Vehicular Tourette’s. I’ve come a long way. I purposely watch my word-choice when around my 3-year old, Claire, because she’ll repeat what I say and use it in a way that would point a huge “Yep, she totally got that from me” finger my way. Having a very verbal child has pretty much cured me, and considering she starting putting together complete sentences when she was 17-months old, we’ve had to be on our toes (and our best behavior) for a while now.

Stock photo by perritorit.

I know there are those who would tsk-tsk for even hearing me admit that I swear at all, but there you have it. In my house growing up, there were no swear words. I never heard my parents swear. The worst my dad would say was “dirty cockroach,” and if you heard that it was best to steer clear until the dust settled.  But, I grew up and found my own way of expressing myself. I love using clever words properly, and it just so happens that some of those words are little more brightly colored than others.

…but, that being said, I don’t swear in mixed company. I don’t swear on the blog. I don’t swear around Claire. And, I don’t swear in the car. Usually.

A few months ago, we were driving around town, and this man totally cut me off. He nearly hit my car, and it totally caught me by surprise.

“Jackass!” I yelled, out loud. It was a purely involuntary reaction, and the word fell right out of my mouth when I stomped on the brake.

As soon as I heard myself say it, I glanced in the rear-view mirror to see if Claire was paying attention.