SOMETIMES…

He just wouldn’t shut up!

It seems to be #1 Son’s week on the blog. Since he is coming home today, I should relate a little story that occurred when he was still a little tyke.

Being married to TLW (The Little Woman) is like being married to Mother Theresa. In fact, if I didn’t have a sister (Older than me, much older) named Theresa, I would call TLW: “Mother Theresa”. As a result of marrying her, church was a big part of my life. When the first two children were born, no matter how small they were: I had to lug them to church every Sunday morning. Besides church, every time we needed to go somewhere, the two kiddies with all their paraphernalia accompanied us. By the time I got behind the wheel, after countless trips with playpens, car seats, table seats and toys, diapers and food, plus whatever else was deemed needed by TLW: I was exhausted. I would no longer have patience.

As I drove off to our destinations, someone would stop short in front of me, do 20 mph, make a sudden turn or cut me off without notice, causing a stream of profanity that I perfected from the knee of Dear old Dad. Apparently, my use of the language was a treasure I passed on to #1 Son at an early age!

So one Sunday we enter the church, and I am holding #1 Son in my arms. Momma has my daughter, and so we go to Mass. Somewhere along the way in the middle of the Mass, #1 Son decides he would like to say something.

He says: “$*@%^”. Then he expands it: “Son of a $*@%^” I stand there, in cold shock. I am afraid to look at TLW. In fact, I would not look at TLW.

A small grin crosses my face, I want to burst out laughing, but I struggle to hold it in.
Looking up at me, he sees me smile a little and says once, again: “$*@%^” That wasn’t enough! He said it again. “$*@%^” Still, “$*@%^” Finally I get him to stop. We march out to the parking lot and into the car. I want to leave him in the church, and just run away, because I know where he got that.

All the way home and most of the day, I got a lecture from TLW, how I have to watch my language in the car.

Please remember my pals DD, and all those that need our prayers.