My children informed me this week they would like to implement a "Swear Jar". Ha, ha. "No fucking way". I told them. The little sods did that a few summers ago, it just happened to be the week we had friends - James & Meredith - staying with us, and between the five of them they cooked up one dastardly plan after another, guaranteed to make me lose it and start cursing. They were actually quite successful, because it took me a few days of banging my head against the wall before I clued in to what they were doing. Their ultimate goal - apart from making me mental - was to raise enough money from the "Swear Jar" for a trip to "Chuckee Cheese". That experience alone is enough to make anyone lose it.
So, no "Swear Jar" for the kids. Honestly, I can't afford it. Mind you, the rate my little potty mouthed offspring are going, I'd probably get as many donations from them as myself. When I heard last week from a teacher that the definition a student had provided for "Fruitcake" was "A crazy asshole", my very first thought was "OMG, which of my children wrote that?". Fortunately it was another miscreant and my kids were in the clear - for now.
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