This one is NOT child-friendly. Please remove the baby from your breast before you read this post.
Okay, I know I'm promising pictures of the house and I have two good reasons why I don't have them for you yet:
1. Judy is in Da Plains and spending time with her has a higher priority
2. I have to tell you about this first. I have to purge it from my soul.
So, after we picked up Nana from the airport, we all went to Cracker Barrel for dinner. It was good times. Judy shared The Spinach Story. Each of the boys took turns telling Nana about school and football and the sitter's house. Mabel colored.
Somewhere during dinner, Mabel decided to color again. She was finished with her plate and lifted it up over her head. "Mama, I all done," she said, and grabbed up the little box of crayons after I rescued the plate.
First, blue. "Dis one GWEEN!" she exclaimed.
Then, yellow. "WED, Mama!"
Clearly we have work to do. I mean, the child already knows her left from her right, but she is sadly behind when it comes to colors. It's true.
She colored some on the paper, some on the table, and I wondered why - after 8 years - Cracker Barrel STILL had non-washable crayons. I mean, seriously. I digress...
The funny is coming, I swear.
Mabel was quiet for a while and when I looked over, I noticed her struggling to get the crayons in the box. Or out of the box, or something. I don't know but her face was red and she was getting upset. Things weren't working out right.
"Are they stuck?" I asked her.
"F*ck," she said.
Both of the boys dropped their forks. Their eyes were wide as saucers. **blink-blink** **blink-blink** Silence.
I was not alarmed. In fact, I remained entirely calm. Third child and all. "No, Sweetie. Stuck. SSSSSSSSSSSTUCK. Say 'stuck'," I tried.
"F*ck." She grew more agitated as she tried to get those crayons to go where she wanted them to go. "F*CK, Mama! Help me, help me! Mama, they f*ck!"
People started to stare. My mom FINALLY looked up from her chicken to hear her darling granddaughter say it again.
She waved the crayon box over her head and raised her voice. "THEY F*CK, MOMMY! HELP ME!"
The look on my mother's face was beyond priceless. It was if all things holy came to an end at that very moment. She had absolutely no idea what to say or do except stare in disbelief.
I'm not sure Judy knows that word. I mean, she does... she knows it's like the dirtiest dirty word.
Judy lowered her head as far as she could, craned her neck over her plate, and whispered, "Did she say-"
The boys laughed. Loudly.
Yep. She did.
"Mom, Mabel is saying -"
"SHE ISN'T SAYING THAT. SHE IS TRYING TO SAY 'STUCK'. SAY SSSSSSTUCK, MABEL!" I tried to stop the bleeding.
"Sssssssss-f*ck," she tried.
In fact, Mabel tried for more than 30 minutes. We'd be ignoring her and get a forkful of food in our mouths and she'd say it again. I tried so hard not to laugh. I mean, seriously. This is not something I say in front of my children. This is not a story to be proud of. I get it. The more the boys laughed, the more Mabel thought this new word was fun to say.
We tried to ignore her but the damn crayons were still stuck. She was only trying to tell us about it and here we were, laughing at her. Poor thing.
Poor, sweet, innocent thing.
I threatened the boys within an inch of their skins if they made her say it at the sitter's today.
So, yes. October 21 will forever be the day that Nana came to Da Plains for a visit. It will be the day that we shared a lovely dinner together at Cracker Barrel.
It will also be the day my daughter dropped the F-Bomb for the first time.