this made me cry.
after all these years.

bastards and strippers.

Sometimes I forget the kids are here, namely Abby. Jeff Jr. is older and is more mature and we can watch most TV shows with him while he is here by himself.  He knows I am always kidding and tries not to take me too seriously. Abby is another story. I try my best not to curse in front of her or to say very adult jokes as is my tendency. In many ways, I try to censor myself so as not to set a bad example or to offend her, meaning I don't want to send her back to her mom with a new colorful vocabulary. Last week she called her brother a "bastard" not in the literal sense of the word since we all know from which he was spawned, but in that playful, kidding way. In other words, in the context that I usually use it. We would have corrected her but, of course, she used it in public. And in front of her maternal grandmother. Oh, shit.

I just said it because Cynthia calls dad that word ALL THE TIME. Lovingly, of course. :) What am I supposed to do with that, except laugh, I mean? Hubby was not that happy. The inappropriateness doesn't stop there. Hubby and I asked her what she wanted to do on her last week of her visit and she stated that she would like to see a show. Just like when we saw Mamma Mia! last summer. Can we see Thunder from Down Under? Cynthia and Lola (Cynthia's mama) say it's a good show. Abby, give me a few years and I will take you there. In the mean time, let's not give your dad a heart attack. Can't I just sneak in? You're not old enough to go to shows like that. Besides, your boobs are not as big as mine, Abigail. I can stick watermelons in my shirt.

Good plan, Abby. Before I send you home, you will be fluent in truck-driver talk and appreciate stripping men with Australian accents. Be patient, my dear. It will come soon enough.

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