THE SWEAR JAR.

You know those days when you get out of bed and automatically stub your toe. Then you are warming up your coffee and you burn your hand. And next thing you know you trip and fall off the curb and all the groceries you were holding fly out of your arms. And then you go to pick up the milk and it now has a hole in it so you are now covered in dairy product. And then the neighbors dog jumps on you and you fall again. And the only words your mind can form are SH**! F***!…

Well that happened.

So on that glorious day my hubby and I decided to start a swear jar. Nothing crazy. Just $1 each time we cursed. We decided it was important that we don’t slip up too often because our daughter is starting to repeat everything. Neither of us would have the mature composure needed if she slipped out one of those words.

Ok, well technically the hubby makes the money in the family so he is adding $1 per curse word and I am adding 1 minute per curse word. 1 minute that goes towards a massage for my man. This doesn’t sound so terrible, except that I am up to about 79 minutes…

But, I am still beating the hubby. How do I know? Because this morning he put a blank check in the swear jar.

Mama:0    Hubby:0    Life:1

 

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