Out of the mouths of babes....

On Monday, we went to our local amusement park, Worlds of Fun. And yes, it was fun, even though I have turned into my mother - I don't mean that in a condescending way. When I was a kid and we used to go to Lagoon with my cousins, we didn't understand how our mothers could come to an amusement park and not go on any of the rides! Our mothers said things like, "I have more fun watching you kids on the rides than I would if I was riding." I mean, all they wanted to do was watch the shows, for crying out loud!

Guess what? I had more fun watching my kids than I had strapping myself into the seats. I actually felt sick on some of the rides I went on. And I went on really mild rides! Oh, the ride I didn't enjoy watching was the kiddie ride that Annie was on when she started to cry - because she saw a five-and-half-foot tall Snoopy (yes, from Charlie Brown) about 50 feet away. She doesn't like people in costumes, at all. Even if - or rather, especially if - they are supposed to be entertaining wee ones.

So, anyway, we had a great day. And Emi survived the roller coaster (the Timberwolf) Ryan tricked her into going on. He said afterwards, "That ride is a lot rougher than I remember. I'm surprised Emi made it without throwing up!" I think Emi will laugh about it someday. In fact, as we were walking through the parking lot on our way to the car, Emi commented, "Worlds of Fun was different than I expected." I asked her if it was better or worse than she'd thought it would be. She responded with a big grin, "Better!"

Well, we got home late (a bit after 10 p.m.) and I immediately set about getting Annie to bed. The thing about Annie - okay, one of the things about Annie - is that when she hits the wall (figuratively speaking, of course,) she really hits the wall! I thought we'd made it miraculously through the day - and we almost did. But just after I'd pulled Annie's pajamas over her head and told her she could go to sleep, she laid back and said, conversationally, "Dammit!"

I whipped my head around. "What did you just say?" I asked?

"Oh, dammit."

"Annie," in my best stern-parental-admonition voice, "You are never, ever to say that word. Ever."

"But Mummy, I not saying 'dammit' to you, I saying it to me."

"It doesn't matter, Annie. We do not say that word." Then a little mumbling explanation about how mummy is sometimes naughty and shouldn't say it either, ever....

"But I not saying it to you, Mummy. I just saying it to me! I not in trouble!"

"Annie. We just don't say 'dammit.'" *Exasperated sigh*

What could I do but shake my head and turn out the light as I left Annie's room after lovingly tucking my innocent angel into bed? So here's what I learned: (1) I need to watch my tongue; and (b) if you curse at yourself, for no apparent reason, it's okay!