"Fuck." Gwen slams the brakes at the flood of red tail lights in front of her, blurring as the windshield wipers make a pass. She really needs to get them replaced.

"Fuh," she hears an echo from behind her, and Gwen's eyes dart to the rearview mirror where she glimpses her tiny daughter strapped into the carseat, clutching her favorite stuffed animal.

"Oops! That's not—baby, we don't say words like that, okay? Mummy didn't say that."

Her daughter stares impassively. "Fuh!"

"Brilliant," she sighs. "Make sure you say that to your grandfather. That'll really get me some points."

Her relationship with Uther has improved significantly over the last year or so, especially since she and Arthur had produced the foul-mouthed little piglet in her backseat that he loves so dearly, but she nevertheless suffers occasional pangs of insecurity regarding her father-in-law's opinion.

Even if she hates herself for it. And even if she'd spent years helping Arthur try to get past his own insecurities about his father.

He was just a hard man to please.

Her phone rings and she uses the car's Bluetooth function to patch the call through the speakers.

"Hi," she greets her husband.

"Hi baby," Arthur's voice sounds. "Are you on your way?"

"Yes, we're just stuck in traffic on the A1. Remind me to get the wipers changed when we bring the car in next; I can barely see."

"I can do that. We don't need the mechanic to do it," Arthur insists, and Gwen rolls her eyes.

"Da! Dada!"

"Hallo Scout, are you being a good girl for Mummy?"

"Dada fuh!"

"Did she just say—?"

"So I was thinking um," Gwen cuts him off quickly, "For that dinner we could just pick up some veg at the market and I can make that casserole you like?"

"Um, yeah, that sounds great. Father's making the—"

"Fuh! Dada. Fuh!"

"What is she saying, Gwen?"

"Oh, you know what? I can't hear you very well, sweetheart! I think traffic is picking up. I'll see you soon! Love you," she sputters, ending the call.

A few moments later a message appears on the LCD screen.

Love you too. Drive safe.

Sighing, she looks at her daughter in the mirror.

"We need to teach you some new words before that one sticks. I already got in trouble with your Daddy when I accidentally taught you 'shit.'"

"Sit. Sit sit shhhit! Mumma! Shit!"

Gwen's hand flies to cover her mouth.