I swear too much. Not as much as if I still lived in Ireland, but too much. I don’t like the children to hear it, but they have at times.
Parenting books will tell you that if your small child swears, you should not laugh. I agree and I managed that for a long time, putting on my serious face and getting cross, explaining that that is not language for children to use and promising to not swear in front of the children ever again.
But then one day I laughed. I had to. There was nothing else I could do.
We were in the car, Number Two and I. A woman drove towards us incredibly slowly, blocking our way and not indicating when she should have, thereby delaying us unnecessarily.
I was about to mutter under my breath, as usual, when from the back seat came the words “Fuck almighty! She was a bad driver!” followed by “Why are you laughing Mammy? She was a bad driver”.