A Blog? Really? Who gives a crap what I have to say?
Answer: don't care. I do, but I don't. I'm inspired by reading several friends' well written, humorous rantings and thought, "Hey, I have some funny thoughts about schtuff, too! Maybe other people might find some amusement in my little slices of observation."
"Schtuff". You can borrow that one. It's a "mommy-fied" kinder, safer version of a beloved four letter word. That's what happens when you become a mom. Well, not right away, but when your 2 year old starts saying, "$#@&" in the correct context, you quickly identify it's time to modify.
"Flock", that one followed next. It's four-lettered cousin came out of dear Pussycat's mouth when she was almost two. It came out of her mouth--drawn out and crisp at the end--just like Mommy used it--when she thought little ears weren't listening.
Yeah, it sucks, er, STINKS, but as a responsible parent, you have to clean it up. You don't want to be THAT parent who's kid taught all the other kid the really good dirty words or be the parent of the kid who incorporated these savory words into a well crafted sentence to the pre-school teacher. "Mrs. A, my pipecleaner elephant looks like $%#@."
So, if pussycat could read (she's 4 and working on it, thank you very much), I might title this post, "Who gives a Flock what Schtuff I have to say."
"Blamn", they're smart little "Turkeys."
