So. There we were. Me and J.J. and it was time for Blues Clues before a couple of bedtime books and bedtime.
And as I reached for the remote, it crashed from the nightstand to the floor.
"Uh oh!", said mommy (me).
"Shit!", said the little angel.
"Uh oh!", repeated mommy, desperately trying not to laugh.
"Was that what I think it was?" asked daddy, from around the corner (probably checking in on facebook).
"Yes, honey," said mommy, "and you are in trouble."
Around the corner came daddy, who asked, "Why, did the remote break?"
(Please no comments on his other recent expletive. He clearly said "fup". And I'm blaming that on daddy too.)