The Judge

In a follow up to my potty mouth entry…I have to admit I’ve eased up a bit on the seriousness of it. I mean, it’s not as if they are saying actual cuss words and there really has been nothing I can do to stop it. So I’ve been trying a more subtle approach. Like this morning, as the boys ate their cereal and I snuck into the bathroom. Sure as day, I overhear “The WORDS” that I so despise. Followed by hushed giggles as though they had just gotten away with a Vegas heist. What was heard next was my echoing voice from the bathroom, warning them that I can hear them. Upon my exit from the bathroom I immediately launch into a diatribe of “Don’t think just because I’m not in the room that you can do things you know are wrong, it’s not me you need to worry about, God still hears you, and He is the judge, He’s the one you’re going to have to answer to…yada yada yada” The silence lasted a few seconds as I sat down on the couch to enjoy my last sips of coffee when I was answered by A, in his methodical, overly-intelligent tone…”Well if God is the judge, who is Jesus then…the lawyer?”