Little Miss

I'd like to tell you about one of my favorite-and youngest-friends. Her name is Little Miss. Little Miss is five years old, sports an adorable blond bob, loves Jesus, her tiara collection, cats, skettio's, and dropping the f-bomb. Yup. That's right. As in, "These skettio's are too f'n hot!" Little Miss drops her f-bombs with aplomb and dead on precision-much to her mother's horror. However, I am totally letting Little Miss's mother off the hook since she is an exhausted school teacher who spends an inordinate amount of time trying not to kill other people's children while maintaining classroom order and some of her personal dignity-on any given day. So yes, gentle readers, the harsh reality is that teacher kids are more often exposed to exploding f bombs per capita than their peers. It's just an educational inevitability. So whatcha gonna do??? My advice is to go ahead and confess Little Miss's potty mouthed transgressions to the Episcopalians. No need having that hang over your head dreading that Little Miss's next utterance is gonna be THE. ONE. I'm all for taking the bull by the horns and blaming it on the big brother who learned it from the ex-husband. And getting HIS name on the prayer list. FAST.