I grew up, admonished:

'Never take the Lord's name in vain.'

And I giggled, 'or vane or vein.'

I totally knew what was meant

But I was a smarty pants.

And I postulated, to myself, mind you,

'If it makes you feel better, it wasn't in vain, was it?'

I couldn't do anything with 'vein' or 'vane'.

Still can't.

 

So, I used 'Christmas Cake'!

An excellent splutter of aggravation,

Explosive 'K' sounds like rapid gun fire

And the hiss of 'S' like a riled snake.

A fine spit of irritation

Always followed by a chuckle

Because it was just plain dopey.

And so, of course, balance restored.

Impossible to be both mad and glad

At the same time.

 

It was almost as satisfying as a swear word,

On the fringe of disrespectful to 'Christmas'.

I suppose, if it served the purpose of a swear word,

It WAS a swear word!

Didn't think of that as a child.

It's still my favourite expletive.

Less offensive than 'Shit'

Which came full throttle with twins!

But I'm improving.

Grandmothers are supposed to set good examples.

Not always successful, but I really do try.