Fork and other Four-Letter Words
June 11, 2016
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A smidge over two-years-old and my son finally started talking. At this point he is where he should have been at eighteen-months, but the tidal wave is washing over him in monumentally overflowing succession. The progress can be counted in a mere few weeks. Of course, with such delights comes the realization that I must begin to filter my commentary, not so much for individual inappropriate words, but I’m waiting for him to regurgitate some criticism in front of the very person I will be in the process of barely tolerable pleasantries.
Awkward conversational happenstance aside, to say I have a potty mouth is one of the greatest understatements of the year. I absolutely love using profanity…not quite as much as eating chocolate, but abstinence would make my heart heavy with grief and experience a general dissatisfaction with life. Sophisticated words are lovely and important, but colorful, creative words that could possibly make other people shudder with their icky descriptiveness are so much better. As is, my filter around my children isn’t too bad, but my story telling lacks a certain oomph these days…maybe I’m creating excuses. But, there is something delectably awesome about combining multisyllabic highbrow descriptors with dialogue read on a middle school bathroom stall…my mother would be so proud…
We’ll see the path my daughter follows, but for now many of the words my son utters have a distinct trucker quality to them that I try to avoid nurturing. Many instances in the past couple weeks required me to double take and assess, “No, he is asking for a fork,” or “I’m fairly certain he wants a different shirt.” Sometimes I’m not entirely sure what he’s saying, but I’ll tell myself it’s jargon, rather than the precursor to what will have him sent to the preschool Principal’s office. In the meantime, I will increase my censoring efforts around my sweet-faced cherubs, but I make no promises when I’m in the exclusive company of adults.