After loading up with every veggie I've craved over the past two years but haven't been able to eat...yes I did get the HUGE ten-pack of "Roasted Seasoned Seaweed," and yes, the lady at the exit door did say "Those must be really good. A lady came by here a little while ago who had already eaten one of the packages while still in the store"...and yes I did say "I'm sure I can control myself better than that...(OK, back to ending the beginning of this paragraph) we pulled out of the Costco parking lot.
Little guy: "There's nothing on the radio. I'm gonna play something off my iPhone." (Seriously realizing that I mention Apple products way too often and thinking I should get some kickbacks or something.)
So I start doing my singing/seat dancing routine, after all, I do pretty much love his hip-hop choices...I mean, who doesn't love a good remix of those songs I know from my teenagerhood, right?
Me: Singing, seat dancing, waving my arms, putting them back on the wheel after being admonished, and "Holy fricka-fracka...did you hear what they just said?!?!"
Little guy: "You're used to the radio versions, huh mom."
Me: "Not really a fan of listening to those two words in front of my kid!" In reality, the two words were just fine independently. But, when placed side by side, AND I'm with my little dude, yeah, very awkward moment. I open my bag of "Roasted Sesame Seaweed" and start anxiety munching. I name a few artists that I've grown to like, radio-wise. Each time I'm lulled into a sense of comfort until WHAM!
Little guy: "You need a bleeper don't you, mom?" I can see out of the corner of my eye that he's enjoying my discomfort.
I keep munching, munching, munching...so much for being able to "control myself". Me thinks it's time for a little NPR. Or maybe "The Carpenters".
people always have written about sex. Its just that now, they don't even use metaphors. They sing about it like a dog in heat. I. HATE. IT.ReplyDelete