So, yeah. I did it. It was all me, all my fault, no getting around it. Sara's first F-bomb.
It flew out of my mouth after a series of unfortunate events -- not that this excuses anything. But the last straw was when I cracked my head - CRACKED IT HARD - on a dresser trying to retreive a diaper for my wet, wiggly, cranky baby. And that's when in happened: "Ah, f*@&." The saddest part is, I meant it. It really, really hurt.
A beat of time passed; I thought maybe, just maybe, I would skate through. Maybe, just this ONE TIME, she would miss something.
Not so much. Standing there naked and wet, looking at me with all seriousness she spoke the unspeakable.
"Ah... F*@&!."
That was a feel-good moment, let me tell you. My mother would be so proud.
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