The F Bomb

There was a time in my life when I thought the use of this word was actually pretty cool.

At other times in my life, it flew out of my mouth on a rather regular basis. (Think college. Think newspaper deadline nights. Think dumb boys most gals date at some point in life.)

On very very very rare occasions, this word again works its way into my mouth. Being a Christian mom with two young boys, however, these instances have decreased dramatically.

Imagine the surprise then, when Gene was driving down the road Monday night, and heard the f bomb from our 4-year-old son. Gene's cell phone was ringing, so he answered about the time Jacob says, "no way, mother f***er" to no one in particular. ( likely playing with toys).

Though we later learned that the phrase had in fact been introduced that very same day in preschool, neither Gene nor I are impressed with the new acquisition of vocabulary.

Oh, the joys of parenting!