Why yes, I love the taste of my shoe.

Tonight, the Little Bastard El Poquito Diablo had his cell phone with him while we were working out.  He just had it piled with the rest of our stuff and I could see that he had some texts coming in, but he was ignoring them (which I so appreciate, BTW).

During the last five minutes of our session, while I'm grabbing a drink of water and getting ready to stretch, he sneaks a peek at his texts.  Thinking it's his girlfriend who had been texting him and being the smartass I am, I look at him and say, "Tell the Sex Monster to hold her horses, we're almost done here."

He looks up, appalled, and very succinctly says, "It's my mother."

Oops.