So, the other day, my big brother and I are on the phone. The nephews jump on and after one cutie patootie tells me that he wants to come to my house to see me because he hasn't seen me for a long time (like 24 days to be exact), I think I'm off of speaker phone again. And out of my mouth slips one of my favourite phrases.
Oh my god.
Well, apparently, I was still on speaker phone. My cutie patootie "I miss you" nephew says,
"Don't say that, Aunt Wyn. Mommy says not to say that. Say "Oh my gosh". Okay?"
"Okay, sorry bud. I won't say it anymore. "
"Okay. I'll tell you again if you say it"
"Okay, ummm....thanks."
So, knowing how much of a trucker mouth I have - which I rightfully inherited from my red-neck father - I've pretty much decided that this little gaffer is not going to carry on the Alberta tradition of spewing profanities proudly. Guess there's always his brothers to corrupt, non? And could you imagine what he'd say if he only understood the depth and breadth of my verbal assaults? Oye.
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