My smallest son swears. For a long time I refused to acknowledge it. Even tried to deny it. Nope, not true. MY adorable angel drop an F-bomb?!? Unheard of.
That is, until I heard it with my own two ears. There is nothing that can prepare you for THAT word coming out of THAT mouth. We wait for so long for them to utter their first word, hoping for a “mama” while watching them paddle off in their diapers. Only to be rewarded half-a-decade later with him stomping his foot in front of a video game, launching the controller across the room and screaming my least favorite four letter F-word at the top of his lungs at his older brother.
Or when I ground him for a messy room. He spouts off the S-word.
Or when he tumbles down the last three steps of the staircase and hurts himself. He screams one beginning with the letter D.
Or when he stubs his toe on his favorite T-Rex toy on his way to bed…
And then I pondered for a moment, where on Earth could he have learned that word? School? His brother? Me?!?
Noooooo…. He had two sources. Two SHINING examples. One was notorious for swearing at the Eagles football games on TV. The other was constantly cursing and throwing wrenches across the room at his autoshop. Together over beers and BBQ’s had enriched my sons vocabulary to the beauty that it is today….
I just hope I never get a call from the Principal to discuss exactly HOW he chooses to express himself…