Foul Language Below

So this morning I was walking my two kids to karate class. Each of us had had one slice of Nutella swirl bread and I was still holding my cold brew from Joe the Art of Coffee in my right hand, so Bella was kind of skipping along by herself; I was keeping ahold of Clark with my free left hand.

The kids and I always have good chats on a Saturday morning; comic books, Young Justice, whatever. We were laughing about something. Everyone was having a fine time.

Coming up the street from the other direction was some woman I didn’t recognize. Who knows if she was homeless, crazy, or just having an off day.

This woman looks me in the eye, looks down at my joyful son, looks back at me and asks,

“Did you fuck him in the ass last night?”

To answer my wife’s eventual question, I didn’t say anything back to her! Pretty shocked, I just scuttled my kids down the street and past her as quickly as possible.

That wasn’t the worst of it all, though; Bella (8) knew better than to say anything about it. But Clark (5) wasn’t 100% familiar with the words she had said and was endlessly inquisitive.

It has gotten to the point that Katherine has ultimately had to levy a tax of $1 on any mentions of the word “ass” in the Flores household.

Sigh. I guess it could be worse.