A sample text widget

Etiam pulvinar consectetur dolor sed malesuada. Ut convallis euismod dolor nec pretium. Nunc ut tristique massa.

Nam sodales mi vitae dolor ullamcorper et vulputate enim accumsan. Morbi orci magna, tincidunt vitae molestie nec, molestie at mi. Nulla nulla lorem, suscipit in posuere in, interdum non magna.

Cussing, part one

We RE-interrupt the second part of SLOUGHING because it requires some photos I cannot get off my phone. FOR SOME REASON.

Until I can figure out HOW TO GET THOSE PICTURES, I offer you two stories about bad words. The first comes with a random picture of a duck who joined my husband for dinner last night.

Scott had to work late and was eating a burrito alone on a patio, and this handsome fellow came and loudly demanded chips. I include him here because ducks—mallards in particular—are famous for their filthy language. True Facts.

This story is old, and I only thought of it because Maisy Jane said her VERY first cuss word yesterday, and I am SO proud of her I could bust.

I realize this is not the usual maternal reaction when one’s darling first besmirches her sugar-lips with profanity, but this was a special case, and the word was beyond justified. It was mandatory. I had to coach her on exactly how to say it.

I was telling my friend my friend Julie about our adventures in pooty-mouthism, and she reminded me of the first time this DARLING kid named Alex ever cussed. He and Maisy Jane were in preschool together…

A long time ago, Julie and I were the regular nursery workers at church, and Alex, who was three at the time, came up to tattle on another little boy named Devon. Alex was a very serious young man, with a sprinkle of charming freckles and very large, round, earnest eyes.

Alex: Miss Julie, Devon said a bad word.

Now, “bad word” can mean a lot of things, to a three year old. Sometimes it can mean the other child said “Shut up.” Or “Toilet.” Julie wanted to know what she was dealing with before she talked to Devon or his mom.

Julie: What word did he say?

Alex: A BAD word.

Julie: WHAT bad word, honey?

Alex: I am not allowed to say it. It is a bad word.

Julie: Okay…well, lean in close and whisper it to me.

Alex: *leaning in close and whispering* Devon said a bad word.

HA. Julie did eventually get Alex to confess the word in question, so he first cussed at the age of three, in service of a good tattling…it was NOT toilet by the way. It was the genuine article, combining the Biblical word for a donkey with what you get if you dig in the earth with a shovel.

But Maisy Jane, even WHEN QUOTING, has not, until yesterday, cussed. A solid decade of sugar-mouth came to a GLORIOUS close yesterday, in the service of JUSTICE. In honor of this momentous occasion, PLEASE! Tell me YOUR favorite Little Kid/ Big Language Story.

46 comments to Cussing, part one

  • This is no way to treat your friends. YOU DIDN’T TELL WHAT MAISY SAID AND WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. (She whines.) Dying to know what happened? Last year it was back-pack attacks over secret baring. . .can’t wait to hear what happened this time.

  • Jenn

    My brother came back from preschool one day with a new word in his vocabulary :f***. And for about a week he went around calling everyone a f***, delighted in everyone’s reactions. Until one day our neighbor kid who was about 9 felt the need to do something about this and taught my brother the correct way to use it.

    This is what I’ve been telling my 9-year-old about swearing: swear words are words you can use when you’re really angry or very hurt and sometimes they help you feel better. But some grown-ups don’t like hearing any swear words ever and most grown-ups don’t like hearing kids swear. The End. She hasn’t yet figured out that I haven’t told her not to swear.

  • I have two stories that involve the same word.

    I teach language arts. Long ago, when I was young and pregnant and teaching 6th graders, I made one of my charges angry. My assistant principal called me into her office regarding the situation. She said, “Mrs. Langley? Aren’t you teaching your students how to spell?” I was a little taken aback and quickly assured her that I WAS giving spelling instruction. She then handed me the note my disgruntled student had written. It said, “Miss Langley is a ho.”

    My son (10) was recently reading a book–it is one he LOVED and was inhaling like air. He came to me one night, shoulders drooping, in despair.

    “WHY do authors have to put BAD words into kids books and ruin them? I can’t finish this book. It has a bad word.” Now, mind you, I would have let him finish the book. He was putting himself and the book in time-out all on his own so to speak. I asked him to SHOW me the word so that we could talk about it.

    The word was hoax. I told him how to say the word, then told him the meaning. He said, “Oh. I thought the ‘x’ was silent–like in faux.”

  • Becky

    My daughter came home from school one day in about 1st grade, talking about how so-and-so had gotten in trouble for using the “s-word”. After more discussion, it turns out that to first-graders, the “s-word” is “stupid”.

  • Julie in Colorado (was Austin)

    I was getting frustrated with something in the kitchen last month and said “Son of a GUN!”. My kindergartner said “No, Mommy, it’s ‘Son of a BITCH!'” I almost died from laughing!

  • Ruth

    When my brother was in first grade and I was in fourth, we had a very serious discussion while walking to school one day about whether or not “butt” was a bad word. We came to no conclusion and decided to err on the side of caution and continue to say “bottom.”

  • We were just talking about this the other day. My daughter also first cussed at age 3, although it wasn’t to tattle. When confronted with the fact that they weren’t having what she wanted for snack at daycare, she said, “Dammit.” That’s not the funny part. The funny part is that when asked who taught her that word, she said, “My grandma.”

    She totally let me off the hook on that one, and my mom was super proud for her correct usage of the word.

  • JulieB

    I refuse to tell you until you tell us what Maisy said and why. 😀

  • Aimee

    I’m with Roxanne and Julie B — I want the FULL Maisy story.

    My favorite baby pottymouth story is one that my grandmother LOVED to tell. I wasn’t there for it, but one of my cousins had heard the F word and was apparently experimenting. He walked up to her and said, “Mema? Butterflies are f—ing things.” She LOVED that story, and even in her later years with serious dementia, she always remembered that and would tell it frequently.

  • Julie in Colorado cracked me up. There should be a like button. I thought of another one. . .when my daughter was 2, we were in the car one day and I slammed on the brakes. Her juice cup flew to the front seat and she exclaimed, “Don-dahm-it!!!” Now neither my husband nor I are “for real” cussers. . .and we NEVER use g*d* I was shocked and kept wondering where she’d heard it. Then later, I dropped something and said, “Dadgummit!” She repeated it. . .”Don-dahm-it.” She also repeated it that Sunday morning in Bible class, so I had some ‘splainin’ to do.

  • My favorite is when my daughter, now 26, was almost three. My Dad, Mom, brother, Kris, and I were on our way to visit my Grandmother at the nursing home. My Mom always called my brother a little a**hole when she was frustrated with him. Well, my then 3 year old was bored on the long ride and my brother kept teasing her as he was in the front seat with my Mom and Dad,,,kept taking her toys and making her beg for them to play with. She finally got frustrated enough and said (just like my Mother) “hey you little a**hole, give me that!” I thought my Dad was going to wreck the car from laughing so hard. The shocked look on my brothers face was worth its weight in gold!

  • My son is in third grade and sometimes you STILL have to suss out whether the bad word is a truly bad word or not. He came home one day saying that everybody in his class was saying the c-word. Horrified but hopeful that it wasn’t THE c-word, I questioned him until I found out that everybody’s new favorite word was crap. LOL

    When I was about 5 my mother was driving along when from the seat next to her (for we were still allowed to ride in the front seat back in the olden days), I calmly told her I knew what f*** meant. After she pulled the car from the ditch (metaphorically speaking), she asked me what it meant. “It means you lie next to each other and hold hands.” Ah, the innocence of children. 🙂

    Also, all in favor of knowing Maisy’s story say “aye.” AYE!

  • Gaylin

    When my dad would get mad at an inanimate object (trying to loosen a bolt, stuck car part etc) he would say over and over and over again – Jesus Jesus Jesus Jesus. He was a completely lapsed Catholic and where he grew up this was the worst swearing you could do.

    When I was 8 and my younger brother was 5, I snuck up on him while he was playing outside. He was crashing two matchbox cars together over and over again and you guessed it, saying Jesus every time they smacked together. He is 48 now and can swear much more creatively.

  • BerniG

    My Friend Tammy was onher way to church to drop of her 2 little ones at Mother’s day out in he nursery. She had stopped to pick up some Taco Bell for her husband and herself with 2 very large sodas. She bucked up her 2 babies, I think they were about 2 and 3 at the time and started to drive to church. As she went around a curve the large sodas that she forgot on the floor of the back of the car went flying! Soda everywhere! So she says “Oh S***!!!” Her 2 little cherubs in the back seat starting chanting “Oh S***, Oh S***!” in the backseat, all the way too church… She dropped them off and prayed mightily that they wouldn’t repeat it inside, if they did, the teacher never told her:)

  • OK, this is HILARIOUS!!!! And brought back a great memory, one that I blogged about SEVEN years ago when my son was 7! He actually came out with a big question… he asked… “Mom, how *do* you spell fuck?” The whole blog post is here, and yes, it took me hours to find it again! But a great fun memory!! http://stephanieelliot.blogspot.com/2004/12/f-word.html So funny!

  • Amber Arthur

    In the late 90s, my little sister didn’t get the Barbie cash register she had always wanted. When we drove by K-Mart on the way to our grandparents for dinner Christmas night, she was fuming. My dad asked her if she liked all of her fun Christmas presents. She pointed at K-Mart and said “I just want to…..I just want to kick Santa’s @$$! He didn’t bring me my Barbie cash register.” No idea why she associated Santa with K-Mart. We still tease her about this every year. She’s 18 now – but she was 3 and cussed like a rock star AND threatened violence upon poor Kris Kringle…. 🙂

  • Ok, so I wasn’t a little girl.. I was in high school and I didn’t cuss.. I still don’t.. but it’s ok, I married someone who takes up that slack! No, my story is about a teacher.. my biology teacher. But to get the most from the story I need to tell it from my mom’s point of view.

    I came home from school visibly shaken and extremely upset. To the point of tears. I told my mom there was no way I could go back to biology class and she needed to fix it. My mom pressed me as to why I was upset. “The words the teacher used… Mom, I just can’t go back and here that again.” Well, now Mom was upset. She was paying lots of money to send me to a fine Christian school and bad words to the class from a teacher was inexcusable. She asked me what words they were, and I couldn’t even bare to repeat them… I may have finally told her one started with an S and one with a c.

    “She said WHAT???” Mom asked.

    At this point I realized mom was misunderstanding my problem. See, it was time to dissect and I have a very weak stomach.. or did, before kids. That teacher was using words like “slice” and “cut” and it was completely traumatizing me!

    In the end, I got a doctor’s note and was able to go to the library during the dissections and never had to hear those nasty words again!

    Yeah, I had issues!

  • jennamom

    My 7-year-old son, during children’s time at church, WHILE SITTING ON THE ALTAR, was telling a story about a disappointingly crappy toy RC helicopter and called it a “DAMN piece of junk”. I win.

  • Amber Arthur

    I am a modern day cusser with no shame. There have been scientific studies show it has the same effects as popping a pain reliever, without all the damage to your organs later.
    My daddy coached me to say “$h!t” as my first word, and then one day I proudly said it and he captured it on cassette tape. My mother wanted to KILL him!
    Then in Kindergarten, we were heading to church. Our cat had somehow managed to get locked in our Chrysler Lebaron over night. It had crapped ALLLLLLL over the car, probably from panic. So my dad exclaims “GREAT! The cat $h!t in the car. There is $h!t everywhere!” We cleaned it up, were late for Sunday school but somehow made it.
    Of course the first thing I did when I got in class was tell my Sunday School teacher AND kindergarten teacher (hey it’s a small town; population 6,000!) that “my cat $h!t all in the car this morning, and my daddy was just a cussing”.

    She greeted my Dad after class and was CRACKING up telling him what I had said. She did correct me and tell me not to say those words out loud again and why. Such a deviant…

  • I WANT MAISY’S WORD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  • Tracey

    Well…as I have no children, my cuss word story comes from me as a first grader. Having been able to read since I was 2, sounding out words I have never seen or heard spoken came easy to me. When the neighborhood bully pointed to a word on the bright yellow garbage can in our schoolyard and asked me to read it…I did. It rhymes with the creature in your picture above. He then spent the rest of the day torturing me that he was going to tell on me.

  • Christine in Los Angeles

    Oh, we were little girls, and my sister took out the trash. She came back to the apartment, and said, “Mummy, Stella said damn”, and my Mum explained we don’t say that word. Well, Judith came into the living room, and informed us what Stella had said. My Mum heard her, and hauled her off to the bathroom … almost seventy years later, in memory I taste the soap on the toothbrush – and I wasn’t the one being scrubbed. And I still have never sworn (such a good girl).
    God bless, Christine.

  • Well, I wasn’t old enough to actually REMEMBER this, but my Mom swears hand to God that it happened (and we all know we can trust our mothers not to exaggerate, right?)
    When I was but a wee lass of one-ish, my Mom decided to stop by the local McDonald’s drive-thru for a bite. This being the tag-end of the Seventies, she had a very large CB antenna on the top of her Bronco that she had forgotten about. She ordered, then proceeded to drive forward as instructed and knocked that whip clean off the roof with what I am told was a very loud clatter. “Jesus Christ!” she yelled, and from the back seat came a small but emphatic “jeebus ist!”
    To this day she maintains that Jesus was my first word.

  • Becky

    My five year old was going somewhere with her aunt and uncle when another driver cut her uncle off quite rudely. Uncle Bill hollered, “You stupid bitch!” My dear, sweet innocent child told me when she got home, “Uncle Bill said a BAD word. He said STUPID.”

  • Kelly

    When my husband was little, he would call KFC “fucky fried chicken”

  • Jill W.

    When my daughter was 5, she was returning to a summer day camp she had been to the year before. Their policy is you either have to pass their swim test or wear arm floaties in the pool. She hated floaties, but could not pass the swim test when she was 4, so she was apprehensive about the swim test for a few weeks leading up to it this following year. When I picked her up after the first day of camp I asked if she had taken the swim test, she said, “No. I just decided to wear the damn floaties.” She was so resignedly disgusted with the situation, and used such great inflection, I did not have the heart to fuss at her.

    I, too, want to hear the whole Maisy story…

  • Cherie

    I have two … or more. One of kid cussing, and the other my coming of age cussing story.

    First the kid cussing – my nephew, now 10, used to hang out with his dad at the truck shop while dad was working on his dump truck with the other guys on the weekend. Which led to the inevitable time he came home around age 2 or 3 saying “Fruck”, which my sister tried to redirect into “truck”, which it most decidedly was not. Which really was funny because when someone asked her if she was worried about Nolan picking up bad language at the shop, Bekki said, “Why? It’s no worse that what he’ll learn sitting in the back seat while I’m driving.”

    My coming of age cussing story: My grandmother taught me the proper way to swear. With feeling and intention. As the oldest child in the family I was always expected to be the good girl. I was when I was within earshot of the family. When I was about 18 or 19, I was doing something at my grandmother’s house – sewing or trying to put something together to help her with something – and whatever it was was not cooperating. I was muttering near epithets and getting more frustrated. My grandmother came and stood next to me and finally said, “For heaven’s sake, just SAY IT! Just let it out!” And proceeded to swear along with me over this frustration. So. My grandmother taught me how to swear.

    My father taught me how to swear better. He could string the most interesting words together – words that meant nothing or were completely innocuous – into the most perjoritive cursing you ever heard. It was beautiful.

    And then there was the time I tortured my mother by saying “peanut butter” every time I wanted to curse. Took about two days before she was ready to brain me with a frying pan and forbade me to say “peanut butter”.

  • Diane Russom Harrison

    Here’s the scenario…Summertime in Washington, DC. Seriously hot and I mean hotter than the hinges of hell. I had a car that had no A/C which tended to overheat. My dad had told me that if I got stuck in traffic and started to overheat to turn the HEAT on full bore and it would draw heat away from the engine. So it’s somewhere around 100 degrees ane 90% humidity and I am stopped dead in going home traffic. Just as my lane begins to move a car cuts in front of me. Without thinking I scream, You f-ing gd mf sob. Then I realized my windows were open and so were those in the car next to me. I gently turned my head to see a very distinguished gentleman gazing at me in horror with eyes bugging out and mouth dropped open. I just smiled at him and shrugged and then he got laughing hysterically as did I. Not my finest moment but I can laugh about it now.

  • Lora in Florida

    I have four boys, and they go to Catholic school. It’s a small school and everyone knows everyone. So my oldest made it to 7th grade without getting busted for cursing and when he did it was “S***”. My second was in 3rd grade and got busted saying the f word, 3rd child was in 1st grade and it was S***.

    Now the baby of the family was in kindergarten, and on DAY 15 (DAY 15! A mere 3 weeks into school) he tells the child next to him (who, apparently and according to Leo, was jabbering all day) to “Shut the F*** up!” The assistant teacher, in total shock, says to Leo, “WHAT did you say? And Leo replies, “I SAID, Shut the F*** up!” (so glad he clarified that for her!) Now praise the Lord that I know them all, because when the teacher called to tell me the story, she was laughing.

  • I was a late-bloomer, cussing-wise. When I was in about 3rd grade, I went to an after-school program and one day a new kid, Chuck, joined the group. In an effort to give him an enthusiastic welcome, I decided to sing the name song to him… “Chuck Chuck bo buck, banana fanna fo f…” One of the other kids ran to tell one of the adults, and she hauled me into another room and scolded me so fiercely that I refused to sing that song – using any name – for years thereafter. I had NO IDEA which word I’d sung that was the bad one, and she didn’t clarify, so I remained mystified as well as mortified. (And I was embarrassed to admit to her that I didn’t know what word I was in trouble for saying… in retrospect, that probably would have gotten me off the hook, assuming she believed me!)

  • Liz

    My husband occasionally works from home. His corporate job can be frustrating at times to say the least. One day something he was doing ticked him off and he smacked his hands down on the keyboard and yelled “f***!!!”. About an hour later my then 4 year old looks at me and innocently asks, ” Mom, why was Daddy f***ing the computer?”

  • I have two (because I have two kids):
    My daughter was four and we were listening to classic rock when the lyrics “we will rock you” sang out from the car radio. My daughter misheard the words and sang boldy “we will f*** you, f*** you”. I had to pull over and stop laughing before I could explain that it was not her *singing* that I was laughing at.

    My youngest is just under two. He pulled a googly eye off one of his crafts this morning and said “oh shoot”. I was so relieved. Because, believe you me, that is not all he’s heard…

  • elswhere

    A long long time ago, when I was a preschool/daycare teacher, I knew a barely-3-year-old boy; let’s call him Joey, to protect the sort-of innocent. Joey was a brilliant kid but a little lacking in impulse control (as they say in the early ed biz), and prone to shoving kids who drove him nuts, which led, one day, to the following legendary exchange:

    Teacher [in the usual preschool-teacher kind-but-firm singsong]: “Joey, it’s really not okay to shove Betty. If she’s bothering you, you need to use your words.”
    Joey [slowly and deliberately, looking her right in the eye]: “If I…had used…a word…I…would’ve…said…FUCK.”

    It will tell you everything you need to know about this preschool that the entire staff was more impressed with his precocious use of the subjunctive than we were shocked at the cussing.

  • Mine is more a “coming of awareness” more than “coming of age” swearing incident.

    The setup: College theatre group, I’m in the costuming department. I had only really started exploring my cussing side at the end of high school, but the freedom of university was amazing and I was learning LOTS, not necessarily related to my major.

    The head of our costuming department, Marianne, had worked for Theoni V. Aldredge, and was incredibly talented. We didn’t build costumes, we created clothing. However, instead of the artsy/wild-child of the 70’s and Broadway, Marianne was the picture of a librarian. Shirtwaist dresses, sensible glasses, brown football-helmet hair. Seriously, a Lady.

    And I ran afoul of a chiffon overdress. Yes, you can throw chiffon across a room, with sufficient motivation. And Marianne walked up to me, looked at me sadly, and said genteely, “We must now pray to the patron saint of costumers. St. F*** a Duck.”

    I lost it. And had my illusions of genteel ladyhood completely demolished. She was the best!

  • Way to tease us about your daughter’s justification. You might be moving and uber stressed, but that’s no justification for taunting us.

    (Go get ‘er, Maisy Jane.)

    My kid story: he was about three, and his mother was the nosiest, most self-righteous person in our neighborhood. That would be why I still feel gleeful when I remember Neil on his trike. His little legs went up and down. His mouth kept perfect rhythm. On each downstroke he dropped the four letter word that is often preceded by “dip.” His mother never quite recovered.

  • Jennydodge

    My favorite cussing story is from when I was in Jr. High, which, since I now teach middle school, I can scientifically guarantee you is the pinnacle of cursing in this country. I had embraced Jr. High cussing with gusto and my mom was sick of it, so my mom enacted a contest. The contest rules were that every time a family member caught another family member in a cuss, that person would get a tally mark next to his or her name. At the end of a month, the person who had the most naughty cuss marks would have to take the other two family members out to dinner at a cloth napkin establishment. The person who had the 2nd most cuss marks would have to buy dessert, and the person who was pure as the driven snow would order steak, eat up, and enjoy. There was no way out of the contest. Like it or not, it was all in.

    And so the contest began. As much as I loved cussing, I loved rubbing it in my mom’s face more, and so if I got caught cussing, I pushed my mom’s buttons until she slipped to even things up. My dad was working and so he wasn’t home as much. Unless we supervised the garage all weekend long, it was pretty clear that he was going to eat for free.

    At the end of the month, my mom ended up paying for the meal as her contest backfired in her face, I happily ordered fillet mignon, bought dessert, and my dad ate free. Victory! After that, cussing that wasn’t directly disrespectful was not too much of a problem.

  • liz

    My son is responsible for every gray hair on my head. He pushes my buttons relentlessly. I try very hard not to use bad language in front of him, but there are times you just have to say SOMETHING. So I’ve resorted to using british slang — I say bloody bugger, bloody wanker with abandon. My children have picked up this delightful habit. Guess where we are going next month? Yep. The U.K. : )

  • jeanette in Peculiar

    2 stories, both about my precious innocent blue-eyed angel. Her first cuss was when she was just a year and a half old. We were in a hotel room and she heard her dad say “shit”. We had just turned the lights out and I was hoping she would sleep alright in a strange crib. Out of the silence I heard her say “shit” and I giggled without meaning to. WELL……..that just caused her to say it over and over again for at least an hour! I couldn’t help but giggle, causing her dad to get SO MAD we got up and left at nearly midnight and drove 3 hours home. (UPDATE: he and I are SO DIVORCED!!)
    Her second cuss (and in my opinion the BESTEST kid cuss ever): backstory…she used to watch Nickelodeon every day and a big smiley face would come on and say “If today, (insert date) is your birthday, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Apparently in her 3 year old mind this meant that every day was her birthday. One night she was in the bathroom, supposed to be brushing her teeth and I went in and found her goofing around. I got on to her and told her to stop it and brush her teeth. Well, she put her hands on her hips, stomped her foot and told me very clearly “It’s my fucking birthday!” I fled the bathroom, not daring to let her see the smile on my face, afraid I would laugh out loud and encourage continued use of the F word. I went and got her dad, thinking that the big scary dad voice would scare her into not swearing. Her dad went into the bathroom and said “WHAT DID YOU SAY???!!” That little girl had the nerve to put her hands back on her hips, stomp her foot again and explain quite clearly to her dad, “It’s my fucking birthday!”

  • Wow, don’t we all have stories?! My kids were exposed to much cussing in their protective little Catholic school. In pre-K on day, they were all offering suggestions of words that rhyme, and when the teacher said the word “duck” (just begs for it doesn’t it?), one little girl said “F**K! F**k a duck!”. Of course my kids had to come home and ask what it meant, after seeing the horrified expression on the teacher’s face. I say the teacher had it coming for even using the word duck. My son, however, uttered his first original curse word when he was 8, when he called his sister a bitch for not sharing her popcorn at the movies. He got in big trouble, but at least it was used in context.

  • Reine

    I do not remember this, but Auntie-Mom swears it’s true. She says when I was 5 she caught me taking a quarter from the top of her dresser. When she asked me what I was doing I looked at her and said, “Fucking tooth fairy stole my toot an dint leave no money.”

  • cakeburnette

    No favorite cussing story, but I am well-known amongst the middle & high school crowd as the mom who is okay with cursing. Apparently this makes me quite cool.

  • Em

    Just last week my husband and five year old were butting heads over something I’m sure was important (it was so not worth fighting, I am sure). As my husband descended the stairs, certain he had the last word (very important when you are fighting about nonsense with a child), my little angel said, not under his breath but not exactly AT his dad either, “Shithead”. The kind of tone you use when someone in traffic has waved you on after you’ve waved them on and you do that frustrating stop and go dance. I am hoping my son saw the tears in my eyes as disappointment and not fervent effort not to let a laugh escape.

  • Editdebs

    I really only curse when I’m driving, and I really tried to curtail that once I had my son. But I was not always so successful. When my son was somewhere between 2 and 3, we were driving home and someone cut me off and I had to slam on the brakes. I muttered under my breath, and my son quickly asked me what I said. I tried to cover up what I’d said, but he wasn’t buying it. When we got home, he started playing with this superhero guys. He had one knock the other down, and he had the knocked down guy call the other guy an “asset.” (You can guess my bad word from his interpolation.) He then looked at me to see my reaction, which I struggled to contain. I didn’t want him to see me laugh. He used “asset” for the next few weeks, and it’s a word we still use in our household. “Don’t be such an asset!”

  • I have no children but a niece and nephew take up the slack. My sister and I are master swearers. I use most words freely and with abandon. For the two of us (and a couple of dear friends) being called a “bitch” is a term of endearment. I *thought* we had been doing fairly well not cursing around the kids. Until my sister, my niece (11) and I went to dinner. It had been a long day of being at the mall, ears being pierced and bras being bought. As we sat at the table, my niece was working on a puzzle. My sister gave her a hint of how to do it, and it didn’t really help. My sister said, “fail,” in a lighthearted manner. My niece than said, “And I did it the way you told me to, BITCH.” I will never forget the look on her face as she realized what she had said. I was actually kinda proud.

  • Jennifer

    These stories are great! HAHA!Quick story.
    My son was 3 1/2 at the time. He is autistic, so he didn’t talk except for words like “juice, mommy..” small words. He was in his special needs pre-k class playing centers when he was called to go to speech therapy. I guess he didn’t want to go and took it out on his therapist. He went to her class, took off his shoe screamed “F***! F***! F***!” and threw his shoes at her. Oh course I was horrified when I got a note home but my mother, who was reading the note with me, could not contain her laughter. I was embarrassed because my husband and I didn’t use that kind of language.. (around him at least) but I was so proud that he used it in the right context. I couldn’t be mad at him. =D