Thursday, 3 January 2013
Forks, Frogs and Foxes
We have many off limit words at this house. Obviously the usual run of the mill profanity is on this list, but also included is our family ‘swear words’ that are a big no no.
Like a 'watch mom’s eyes pop out of her head and run for your life' no no.
The Family Swear words include:
1. Shut up
4. Gay (or any variation if not used properly, as in ‘happy’ or respectfully referring to homosexuality)
Such a good mom raising respectful, polite, well-spoken children right? Another Gold Star for me please.
Disclaimer: Mom you may want to stop reading here.
Ummm, Jess, if these words are off limits…what about your use of ‘occasional’ profanity in your writing? Hypocrite. No shit, I am a grown up. Put on your hand cupped ear-muffs if needed and let’s get on with it shall we.
Let’s get one thing straight peeps; I’m not hoping to submit this as a Berenstain Bears Book with Mama Bear teaching her cubs a lesson on manners. This blog is not the Hungry Caterpillar munching its way through an apple and I will not be saying Good Night to the moon with you. Besides, I think my use of expletives has been somewhat limited and I have shown great restraint. It’s very well placed if you ask me. Funny shit.
I think it’s hysterical when a small person (as in children, not little people..ok that too) drops the F bomb.
Toddler Olivia couldn’t say the word fox. Let me tell you how much fun I had watching Dora.
“Swiper No Swiping!! Get away bad Fucks.”
Toddler Quinn struggled saying the word fork. I almost lost my shit one morning when at the tender age of three she asked me for a fucking knife (fork and knife) so she could eat her pancakes.
Quinn also referred to fried (flattened) eggs as ‘fucking eggs’ for a good two years. It made preparing breakfast worth getting out of bed even without a mimosa. “Mommy, can I please have a fucking egg?”
Thank you for remembering your manners Quinn. Good job.
My three-year old niece just learned to say frog properly. Let me tell you how many toy frogs I bought for her just so I could hear her excitedly say “fuck Auntie fuck”.
Emily, tell Auntie what animal says ‘ribbet’. Clever girl!!
All of these words became a regular family activity when at my mother’s house…just to see her reaction. Dance puppet dance.
Perhaps my favorite is when a child can use the word in context. When Peyton was three, she came upon her little sister playing with her markers in the kitchen. As soon as she noticed the massive violation of her property she calmly turned to Dylan with her hands in the air and asked “What the fuck daddy?”
Dylan called me at work and explained the story in panic asking what parenting direction he should take. My response was hard to hear through my laughter. “Are you shitting me? Who the fuck taught her that?”
Don’t answer that.
In hindsight, perhaps I should have been more cognizant that little ears keep listening when mommy is talking on the phone. But I blamed Dylan and his road rage language when driving with the kids in the back seat. Shame on him!
At least Peyton didn’t have any linguistic challenges and I was very impressed with her syntax. Smart little child.
As they grow, our family’s off limit list of words still remains the same. But I am learning that they cannot be shielded from the world’s profanity for very long. School, sports, and ok sometimes me (but mostly Dylan) lends for a premature loss of innocence that makes me want to sprinkle magic fairy dust to keep them sheltered in my house forever.
The other day Peyton and Olivia were explaining to me that someone at school got in trouble for saying the “C” word. Are you shitting me?
My eyes grew as big as saucers, my heart raced and in what seemed like an eternity I racked my brain for what the ‘C’ word could possibly be in grade 7.
Crap? Cupcakes? Crazy? Cookies?
Surely they weren’t talking about the actual word at the age of 12. I asked what word they were talking about, holding my breath for the answer I really didn’t want to hear.
They asked me if I knew what word they were talking about; I assured them I did. They finally rolled their eyes at me, told me the word and then proceeded to tell me what it meant. Then they asked me if I already knew what it meant. Really?
All I could think was that I am clearly under qualified for this parenting job. Who the hell hired me? It’s going to fast and I haven’t even taken the Level II Certification Course yet.
I stopped by the wine store on the way home for an extra bottle and couldn’t even get the words out to Dylan to explain why I was drinking before dinner.
It had to be wine thirty somewhere.
See you next timeJ
Don’t forget to likey the linkey to your right and tell all your friends. Hellooooooo….magical wine fairies.