Potty Mouth On Sunday

I'm a potty mouth. Not all the time and I really  try not to be in front of children, especially other people's children.

I go to church. I do things like make side dishes for Sunday night church fellowships. I even hang out with the nursery director and the pastor's wife (mostly because we have kids in the same age groups).  So I try really really REALLY hard not to use foul language in front of them.



Except I think on Sunday night I cursed, in front of them. I may not have. But I think I did.  I blame it all on the 3 year old, because I can if I want to, her and my mom. 

After a nice fellowship dinner and a little Baptist singing and devotion she ran back to the playground. Because she had to play. So I meander around picking up my container(s),and getting Poppa's stuff together. Then the 'Wise' one (Mom) decides Poppa should  walk to the car. 


Alright mom. Fine, I be a perfectly good stroller he'd been content to ride in, but whatever. He likes to walk.  He also likes to think he's as grown up as his sister. So not true.

In an effort to lure Teag from the playground I act like I'm just leaving her there. Do the whole wave and get halfway to the car thing.


Except Poppa is running towards her and while I'm watching him I see the crotch of her blue shorts go dark. And the dripping. 


Oh good Lord the embarrassing dripping of pee as she had an accident. On the playground. At the church. Where we will be going tonight for dinner (again) and service.

I turn, give my mother a death glare and grab Poppa by the middle and Teag by the hand and we work our way to the car. But I think my mother's death glare was accompanied by an explative... Starting with an F.

I know I thought it. I'm just not sure if I said it. But I got looks. Some were pity, some we agast and some were obvious disapproval. So I think I might have said fuck.  But maybe not.