|Yep, that's what she called her.|
Today I had my overhaul. Eyelash tint, eyebrow tint, waxing and toenails (orangey coral- for spring). My excellent beautician/friend works out of her house, so I can take Issy, and she even gets bonus nail polish (shiny pink-no surprises).
I forgot my thongs (I always forget my thongs) so when it was time to go, I borrowed my excellent beauticians 11 year old daughters, with the promise that I would drop them back on the way to Josh's karate lesson at 4pm.
Which we did. As Josh jumped out of the car in his white karate gear, with the thongs, ready to put them on the front porch, a Mum walked by with her little girl, and older school boy. As Josh ran past them the little girl called out to him "Hi Karate Boy!"
Quick as a flash Issy shouts clearly from the back seat "That's MY brother, mole!".
The other Mother smiled at me. She sort of tried to see in the car to see what sort of child was shouting such heinous profanity at her little daughter. I tried to smile, still in shock, hoping I hadn't heard right, willing Joshie back to the car so I could shut the door and get the hell out of there. I wondered briefly why she didn't come at me with teeth and claws bared, but I put it down to mutual shock.
I drove the 150m to Karate, shouting all the way. Telling Issy how appalled I was that she would use that word and asking her where she had learned it. I could not imagine where she could have, apart from watching Puberty Blues with us, which she hadn't. God, had she? NO.
At karate I told a couple of friends, who pissed themselves. We all found it funny (lets face it, I thought it was hilarious), but we were all a bit appalled. How could she be saying stuff like that? And WHERE had she heard it? No one we know drops the M word. And how did she learn to say it in context? It just didn't make sense.
OK so since Puberty Blues started we might have occasionally dropped it, jokingly.
If she said fuck, I wouldn't be surprised at all, as she overhears that from me more than she should. But MOLE!!
Issy and I left karate to collect Sarah from her friend's house. On the way I tried again to find out where she had learned the word. She kept saying she didn't remember, didn't know, had forgotten.
We reached Sarah's friend's and unable to help myself, I told the story to the Mum there. Suitable shock all around. I realise now I shouldn't do this. Especially seeing as when I got into the car Issy was sobbing pitifully. Sarah said to me, 'Mum, Issy said she didn't say a bad word, she was calling out to her friend Merle'.
Apparently, Merle is a friend Issy has met through our lovely Monday nanny/babysitter/friend person Clare. So what she was actually shouting was "That's my brother, Merle". And the Mum wasn't horrified, because she knew that's what Issy was saying, she just couldn't work out who the random shouty child was who appeared to know her daughter, when she and I clearly had never laid eyes on each other.
And for goodness sakes, who names their kid MERLE? We can see what that poor child's nickname is going to be when she gets older can't we?
I am relieved, I am embarrassed, I am so sorry I shouted at her. And I'm sorry I didn't listen properly to her and believed the worse and told three people so they'd laugh. Because she really isn't that bad, she's a bit of a darling.
I asked her if she'd forgive me, and she said she would. She's asleep now, looking angelic, which she was all along.