Some school holidays ago, now a distant memory and one I wish to wipe from my mind, I was forced to implement a Swear Jar for use by the children.
These holidays it has been expanded to include those moments when the children swear, when the Littlest One swears as a direct result of the swearing of older two, or due to overuse of words such as “fat”, “idiot”, “dick” or “fucking stupid moron, I hate him!”
Ah, brotherly love.
One of those words made a regular appearance as we embarked upon a short drive earlier today.
“You can put a dollar in the swear jar,” says Grumpy who is rapidly becoming increasingly more grumpy.
Some protesting by children, much ignoring of protesting by children by their parents and Monkey Boy asking “What happens to the money that goes in the swear jar?”
Grumpy, whom is still, as already mentioned, grumpy replies “On you. Doesn’t all our money go on you?!”
“HOORAY!” came the resounding cry from the back seat. The children now comrades; allies against a greater evil.
“YAY!” says Monkey Boy again. “That means we should swear lots more and then we’ll get really cool presents!”
They start scheming and declare they will up the swearing around birthdays and Christmas so the presents they get are “better”.
What they haven’t worked out is when to shut up or when not to speak in front of parents.
Meanwhile, Grumpy Pants and I have been secretly and quietly scheming, out of their earshot because we are not stupid, on how we plan to use the funds … without them!