Sponges

My kids are sponges. They absorb everything. EVERYTHING.

My husband was driving with our three-year-old the other day and she began to explain to him the rules of the road.

“People are bad drivers!” She commented.

“Well not ALL people,” my husband corrected.

“Mommy says people are bad drivers. She says they don’t know how to drive. They go too fast and too slow and she yells at them on the freeway.”

After hearing this story I was actually a little bit relieved. After all the things I’d shouted at other cars as they’d cut me off in traffic or tailgated me on the freeway, this was PG. She had gracefully omitted the “fuck you’s” and “asshole” exclamations, and stuck to the real point of my yelling. But it made me realize that we have come to that point; the point where I have to seriously consider the things coming out of my mouth.

Nobody wants to have the kid that drops an “f bomb”. But cussing is ingrained in my very soul. It’s how I’ve learned to express anger, frustration, sadness…So to eliminate it completely seems impossible.

One my best friends growing up mother was English. I used to love to drive with her. You just never knew what creative profanity would come spewing from her dainty frame. Her sentences were littered with “bloody hell” and “fucker”. And it made me feel warm inside.

I know this is a weird thing to remember fondly. But it was refreshing to see (hear) someone let themselves go. And her daughter never used swear words in school, or called another kid “shit-stain” or “fuck-face”. Her daughter grew up to be polite, smart and well spoken.

My only hope is that I can mirror the lessons that my small, English mentor did; to teach my own children the value of a well-placed “wanker” in an appropriate situation. Otherwise, I am going to be making a lot of trips to the principals office.