@*&%$#@@@$%##&*^%$#

I was dropping Vaughn off today (as a birthday gift to my husband) at my parents', and before my eagerly awaited departure, we decided to have a water balloon fight. Like a well-oiled machine (okay squeaky, excessively rusty machine), we coordinated our efforts in filling the balloons--Vaughn on balloon holding duty, my mom on operating spigot duty, and I on tying water logged balloon duty. As one balloon got a little over voluptuous, Vaughn exclaims in his typical hyperbolic fashion, "OH MY GOD!"

Okay...This is 5 inches away from my mother's face--my mother, who will not watch a rated PG movie because of its "excessively filthy language," oh-my-God falling undeniably within the confines of the "excessively filthy language" definition.

I'm sitting there, right next to my mom, my son blissfully oblivious to the, shall we say, awkward moment this has created, racking my brain for the proper response. You know, something like, "Those wicked public schools. Curse their evil influence," only weakly managing, "Vaughn, don't talk like that," in my most convincing disapproving tone, trying to avoid any tinge of culpability from my inflection, hoping we can just pretend this little utterance never emitted from my son's lips. However, I glance at my mom out of the corner of my eye, and see her starting to nod her head knowingly. Uh-oh...I see this is not finished.

"Mmmm-hmmm...I think I know where he gets that from..."

Again, uh-oh. My mind flits back to just a few days ago and the blue streak I let fly while on the phone with my mom after discovering Dave had locked me in the van, without keys, windows rolled up, in over 80 degree weather, with the alarm setting on. Upon opening the door in order to gasp a breath of air under the temperature of 130, the horn starts bleating incessantly--"THIEF, THIEF"--in a very populated parking lot. (I did mention I was on the phone with my mom, right?) I believe my words were something on the order of "G*****n it! S**t! J***s C****t," etc., etc., only too late coming to the realization of what I'd just done. I'm hoping my mother thinks it's a prayer of some sort, counting on the combination of the horn honking and her ever increasing deafness over the phone to blur out the actual content of my exclamation, mumbling a quick apology, and abruptly terminating the conversation.

Back to present time:

"You do?" I say, innocently, "Where?"

"Mmmm-hmmmm" still nodding head with sagelike wisdom. Oh boy, here it comes....

"American's Funniest Videos. They say that all the time on there," shaking head disapprovingly. "You know how he picks things up."

Yes, yes. I know. Too true. Yep. It could either be AFV or...his mother, who has a mouth that would make a sailor blush. I'd say it's a toss up as to which is more influential.

Damn AFV...I mean, darn them!