Nicole feels

Yesterday the kiddos and I went down to the pool for some afternoon sun and fun. The little cuties were playing some kind of game in the pool while I read, one eye on the book, the other on them.

They were playing some kind of game. P@rker coasted over to the stairs, looked over his shoulder at K@ytlin and said, "No sh--, K@ytlin!"

Three pairs of eyes landed on his cherubic face in shock.

"Did he just say what I think he said?" K@ytlin asked, trying not to laugh.

I beckoned him over to me and asked him what he said.

"What?" P@rker replied uncertainly, looking from me to Kay to Nath@n and back again, confused by our gaping stares. "I said, 'don't cheat K@ytlin'", he explained.

"You didn't say a cuss word?"

"No," he replied, as incredulous as we were at the thought that he actually did utter such a thing.

At least I didn't do what my parents did the day my then-7-year-old sister dropped the f-bomb at the dinner table.

"What does f--- mean?" she asked, innocently enough.

"Where did she hear that?" they asked, voices pitched high, eyes trained on me.

"NOT from ME!" I exclaimed.

Thinking back, Mar or Tara probably put her up to it.

Heh.

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.