"Move That Dammit Car!"

Okay. Clean-up time. Mommy's mouth, that is. Tonight, after dinner, we took the boys to the Dairy Queen drive-thru. Why? Well, Mark took Jonathan to Lowe's in the mid-afternoon (while Matthew slept and I had a great swim - thanks, Mark!). Somewhere in that trip to Lowe's, ice cream got promised, but by the time they were out and on their way home, I was putting the hot dogs on the grill, and Mark thought that stopping for ice cream would spoil someone's dinner. Finally, the man has some foresight....but that's another blog entry! Anyway, how to tell a kid he's not getting DQ after he'd been promised? Promise to take him AFTER dinner. Which is exactly what we did. But by this time, the fire was really stoked. Kid wanted his "kiddie size vanilla in a cup w/ rainbow sprinkles" like yesterday, man.

Have you ever seen the line at the DQ drive-thru? And no, we weren't going IN the DQ - actually, Mark and I had just put on a cool CD (The Church) and were digging the music, tuning out the chatter in the backseat and really, for once, not in a rush. But Jonathan's having a hissy in the backseat, saying "Why won't they move that car?" (talking about the one in front of us, I suppose...) When that didn't get an intelligent response from us, he pulled out the big guns: "Move that Dammit Car!" Oops. Hmmmm, where'd you learn that one, buddy? Mark looks at me with some raised eyebrows. Okay, so Mommy gets a little impatient on the road at times. Eek. All that stuff about "little pitchers" was true, wasn't it? Lesson learned.