Go To Hell. I'm Reading

I looked up from my book last night and here is what I saw.  All of us, heads buried in a book, TV off, music playing (yeah Joe Ely), cat meowing (Big Spitty wanted out!).  It was perfect. 

The youngest, reading one of her Magic Treehouse books was reading outloud because the words "sound different in my head".  The oldest was reading a fantastic kids sci-fi book I had got for him...."The Roar" by Emma Clayton.  He had read all 400 or so pages in about three days (we try to catch him at night, but he outfoxes us sometimes).  Husband was reading something brilliant and I was reading absolute crap.  Yup, I was very much escaping thinking about anything, so I was, I am ashamed to admit, reading hardcore shifter romance...not even a genre I knew existed a year ago and now I find there are thousands of titles...who knew?

Regardless, the rest were shoring up the family cultural capital by reading acceptable 'good' books and I was only mocked a little. A pretty typical night all in all.

After about 45 minutes, the night disintegrated rapidly when our daughter saw--and read outloud, very loudly--her father's bookmark which read, 'Go to Hell.  I'm Reading." Hilarity ensued.  Which was fine, it was a school night and it was time for bed.  Giggled whispers of "go to hell, i'm walking upstairs...go to hell, i'm brushing teeth, go to hell, i'm washing hands"...floated down to us as they got ready for bed.

At first I thought I should go up/yell up about their language and to settle down, and then I said to myself, 'Go to hell...they're laughing, together."    And sometimes, that's the important thing, regardless of how we got there.