I’m not a perfect Mom, in fact I’m perfectly imperfect a fact I acknowledge and celebrate. So my language gets a bit colorful at times. So much so my son has said I needed a swear jar. Here’s a conversation that’s taken place recently.
Son- “Mom, here’s a jar for when you say bad words.”
Mom- (Takes jar sheepishly) “Ok son, thanks I think…”
Son- “So Mom if you fill this up we can do something special.”
Mom- “What’s that son?”
Son- “Swear away Mom, because we’re going to Disneyland!”