This morning on my way to drop off Sophie, some total fucking moron from Illinois got in the wrong turn lane, then proceeded to force his way into my lane, then go ten miles under the goddamn speed limit (okay, five, but everyone else goes five over, so five's as bad as ten, really) forcing me to get stuck at a light, but traffic was, as it always is at 10 to eight, too tight for me to pass him, and I was forced to endure his idiocy, while he dawdled in front of me all the way onto Stadium, where he managed to go 20 miles under the speed limit (okay, 15) and I said:
"Agh! This is really frustrating." and then looked up and saw a concerned baby in the back seat looking at me in the mirror, and I explained why I was frustrated and what sort of considerations I expected her to have for her fellow drivers once she was old enough to drive, and she seemed to decide it was okay for me to be a bit frustrated, considering that we were already running a bit late.
It was only later that I realized that I didn't use any bad words (even though that jerk from Illinois totally deserved them) and gave myself a gold star in parental driving.