Yeehaw...
A little more backstory, I was the cussing Nazi at three. Any time I heard a potty word, I would quickly proceed to remind the perpetrator of my age and innocence, and chastise them for what they had done. Fast-forward to the return trip from the rodeo. The young adults had the nerve to use excessive language for almost the entire ride, and about ten minutes in, I grew very tired of it. So, being the hulking, intimidating, three foot tall terror that I was, I shot up, stood on my seat, turned around, and told them something to the effect of “There are children on this bus, and they don’t need to hear that kind of language, so can you please be quiet?"
Now, this was met with brief silence, followed by an eruption of cacophonous laughter. Being somewhat perturbed and a little proud that I had just made that many people laugh, I slowly turned around and sat back in my seat, fairly pleased with myself. I turned to my right only to meet my mother’s wide eyed, gaping visage and the red tint that her cheeks had adopted. I don’t remember the rest of the ride, or who we went to see at the rodeo, but I will never forget (and my mom won’t ever let me forget) what I said to those kids and the way my mom looked at me after the fact. I think the moral of the story is that I have always been and always will be outspoken, morally sound, and a little bit of a ham.