Bad words

I was driving home tonight with my son, who has recently graduated to the front seat of the car. This makes for much more interesting car conversations than the ones we had when he was exiled to the back seat. And that is both a good and a bad thing.

Anyway, we were discussing the post he was planning to do on his blog tonight, and we got on the subject of watching clips on YouTube, and I reminded him of the time I let him watch the Family Guy clip where they all chug syrup of ipecac and try not to puke. I reminded him of this because he immediately went out to a restaurant and made puking sounds after watching that video and got me in trouble with my mom.

I told him that he would get to watch more PG stuff if he could find a way to not talk about the inappropriate stuff in public. Then I told him the story of how, when I was eight like him, his grandfather let me watch Police Academy provided that I promised I wouldn't repeat any bad words. And how, the very next day, I was busted out in the front yard calling his uncle some of those words. (Specifically, it was the scene in which Tackleberry pretends he's catching someone stealing a stereo, but I didn't go into that much detail.)

So he started laughing and carrying on about how Mommy didn't keep her promise, and right then I came to a stoplight that was green, and had to slam on the brakes because some asshat strolled right out in front of me, against the light. While staring at me the whole time. It was not even on a yellow light, either, I mean, he just burned up the rest of my green light as if he was the "Haters Gonna Hate" kid.

Well, I did the first thing that came to mind. I called the jaywalker a dumbass. And Joseph started hollering and laughing about how Mommy said a bad word. We don't even have a swear jar, but I picked up a penny from the cupholder between us and handed it to him. He looked at it, and thought about it, and said, "you know, you should give me another penny for earlier when you forgot the umbrella and we had to run in the rain to the car." So I gave him another one. Then he thought for a second, and said, "You don't understand. I was really mad at you when you made me get wet." My son, the capitalist. His mom, the hypocrite.