Swearing in German

Today was a first for me. I swore at a man on the street in German. Now, granted, I swore at him in my head, and he deserved it. The funny part is that I don't speak German. I have my little brother to thank for this recent addition to my vocabulary. You see, he loaned me The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. A very unhappy mother in the book spews German profanity as insults to her family regularly, and I suppose my newly acquired word is proof of the power and influence of what we read.

Robbie bought flowers for our front beds, and he wanted the girls to help him plant. Henry can't be trusted in the front yard. Without Robbie's full attention he could easily end up in the street. I suggested I take Henry and Vivian for a walk, and that would solve the problem. Henry sat in front, and Vivian was positioned flat on her back in the lower portion of the Phil and Ted's E3 stroller that I love. She looked up at me and watched the trees go by until she finally fell asleep. I listened to my iPod, the sun shone, my heart rate increased as I walked faster, and I felt very, very content.

I noticed a man mowing up ahead on my side of the street. As we approached he didn't stop. He looked at us and kept blowing grass clippings all over the place. I have a strong mama bear instinct when I feel my little ones are not being treated properly, and that inconsiderate mower became the victim of my inner voice sneering, "Arschloch," at him. After I said it in my head I thought, "What in the world? You just swore in German?" I then began laughing out loud as we moved past the man. I may not have been very nice, but at least I managed to amuse myself.