Tracey was in a playful mood this morning.
“You’re such an ass-” she said to me when I met her in the kitchen. I raised an eyebrow and she went on. “-stounding man.”
She was in a good mood because I was up and ready with enough time to drop the three kids at school.
A few minutes later I pulled out onto the main road which runs past our house. It looks more like a country back road at the moment because they’re resurfacing so they’ve torn up all the bitumen in readiness for the new black.
“It’ll be a bit like on the movie Cars,” I told the kids. “They’ll have a machine for covering the road in new bitumen.”
For some reason Master9 chuckled and I waited for someone to chip in so we could talk about this big event happening right outside our house. I expected a discussion about the movie. I expected talk about how rough the road was. I didn’t expect to be squealed at by Miss6.
“That is not nice that they are going to drive cars over them!”
“Hey?” I mean, what the…?
“What on Earth are you talking about?”
“Where did you…?” But of course. “Bitumen,” I said to her, and Master9 burst out laughing even louder. “Then I pronounced it syllable by syllable. “Bit-chu-men. Not butchermen. Bitumen.”
By now Master9 was laughing so much I wondered if he was having trouble breathing. Having sorted out my young daughter I turned my attention to him.
“And what is your problem?” I asked him over my shoulder. I adjusted the mirror a little so I could see his face.
“They’re not putting butchermen on the road,” he said through a grin so big I suspect was starting to hurt his face. “They’re putting bitches on it.”
It was my turn to squeal. “I beg your pardon!”
“You can’t be angry at me, Dad. You’re the one who keeps saying bitch.”
It was time to take charge of this conversation.
“Listen up, guys. Two things. Firstly,” I said to Miss6,” they do not make roads out of people. Secondly,” I said, again seeking out Master9 in the mirror. “You don’t get away with swearing by repeating what I say.”
“Okay, dad,” he said. “But remember I can say Bitch-,” he paused, staring straight at me and grinning. ” -umen. Right? It’s a real word. Not like butchermen.”
🙂 please share 🙂
“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”