Girlfriend laid her first F-Bomb on me today.
It went like this....
I took the kids to the grocery store to pick out some popsicles.
They picked Flavor Ice... you know, the straight sugar juice pops??
The kind that come in a package as juice and then you throw them in the freezer and after about an hour, they are popsicles??
Okay, so here we go.
I tell them... "We can get these, but it takes a little while for them to freeze, okay?"
They're all: "Yes, Mom... okay, we get it, just buy them, please!"
Okay we all understand so into the cart they go.
We get home, and the popsicles are in the freezer for 15 seconds when Girlfriend comes in and opens the fridge.
I'm all: "They can't freeze if you don't give them some time."
We did this little dance five or six times before I decided I had had enough and locked up the fridge with a baby proofing thing-a-mah-bobber (that's a technical term).
Almost immediately after getting the fridge all buttoned up and secure, Girlfriend comes running into the room all flaily and Phoebe like...
She takes one look at the fridge, stamps her foot, hits herself in the head and yells:
"COME ON!!! YOU'RE FUGGIN' KILLIN' ME!"
I wasn't sure I had heard her correctly, so I'm like... "Wait. What did you just say??"
And she was all: "I SAID: YOU'RE FUGGING KILLIN' ME..."
If there is such a thing as smiling while your jaw is on the floor, that's what I did... I couldn't help it.
Girlfriend knew she was busted but laughed before she looked at me and quietly said: "What? You are."
And THAT is how we know that she is spending too much time watching football with her Dad.