I swear

So my son dropped the f-bomb yesterday. I wish I could say it was the first time. I wish I could say that I have no idea where he heard it.

Yes. I swear.

It's the last of the vices. Since becoming a parent, I've given up the late nights, toned down the booze, and I always buckle up. I eat better. I'm on time. I barely watch TV. Gone are the gossip magazines, the massages, and the aimless afternoons of retail therapy. I wear comfortable shoes. My couch is neutral and scotch-guarded. I drive a mini-van.

But the swearing? I haven't been ready to give it up. And yet, it isn't enough for me to tell him not to do it, so it looks like I'm going to have to clean up my act.

Damn.