I had supper on the table every day at 5:30.
Standing in the kitchen cooking, with my oldest doing his elementary school homework, son #3, at about 2 ½ years old, gets on his knees in one of the kitchen chairs, puts his elbows on the table, leans over, and asks his brother “What’s that f’in shhhhiIIIIiiittt?”
I stopped, mid-stir on whatever I was coming up with to feed the masses, and asked “What did you say?”
At 2 ½ he had a tiny, pint sized little adorable voice. He answered immediately “F’in shhhhiIIIIiiittt.”
I turned my back to the stove and table, put my hands over my face, and laughed so hard I cried until I couldn’t catch my breath. Now I’ve got a child that’s scared to death because Mama was crying – and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it at that moment.
His father finally walked in the back door from work and asked what was wrong. I’m sure I looked completely distraught. Tears everywhere, hitching breath… I finally caught my breath long enough to tell him to ask his son what he said.
Son #3 got sent to his room. Neither of us could deal with that one with a straight face.
When his father asked me where he got that from I calmly answered “Do you remember your tirade walking in the back door last night after work, tripping over the boys’ shoes?”
Supper was burned to a crisp. Nothing more to be said.
A jack of all trades, Ms. Tuggle has been a Covington resident since the late 70’s. She's been a K-Mart cashier, cabinet builder, vet tech, office manager for a beef cattle ranch and water well company (where she was able to hold benefits for D.A.R.E. and Scouts), a court reporter, business manager, assistant at a private investigation firm, legal assistant, convenience store clerk, landscaper and elementary school substitute teacher. Her greatest pleasure is being a wife, mother and grandmother. Her stories are all real, and all names will be withheld to protect the innocent, and also maybe the guilty, depending on the crime & the Statute of Limitations.
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