Children soak up everything. And I mean everything. They are thirsty little sponges that just want to absorb everything around them. Except for how to pick up their toys. That does not get absorbed.
Know what else gets absorbed? Bad bad language. I have a potty mouth. I am not proud of it (sometimes I really am, I can come up with some doozies!) and I have tried to curb it. I really really have tried.
The problem is: sometimes a very bad word just fits the situation at hand. And most of the time I am not very filtered when it comes to where I use my colorful language at. Which leads me to problem #2. The sponges.
Every one of my children said “Dada” first. And it’s okay. It is an easier sound to make than “woman who birthed me and takes care of my every need.” I get it. The fourth or fifth word to come out of my precious darlings mouths were generally repeating the colorful language that mommy uses. And I accept full blame.
I might have a slight case of road rage. I am not hitting other cars or hurling trash at the causes of my ire but I do often and colorfully cast disparage at the offending vehicle, driver, and parentage of said driver who dared incurred my wrath. Behind the wheel I could put the father from A Christmas Story to shame.
And who is in the car with me when I am ranting and raving? Sponge #7. He uses the opportunity to not retain how grass is green or what the road signs me, he is learning how to express himself with coarse language.
#7 is generally a sweet baby boy. He likes to cuddle, he likes to tell me he loves me, and he loves to say bad words. He even uses them in the proper context. He gets mad and shouts, “this is bulls**t!” like a Spartan rallying cry. His new favorite word is “f**k” followed by a hand slapped to the forehead. I have tried to curb my language so I am not a complete hypocrite when I tell my child to not say bad words. But it is terribly difficult. #2 had the same problem. He relished using curse words and did so with a sense of purpose that would make a trucker blush. His little brother is following his footsteps.
I had to resort to hot sauce with #2 to finally curb his language. This is a probable reason why he now likes anything spicy. #7 is not old enough to understand why his tongue is on fire when mommy just said the same thing to the idiot who pulled out in front of her at the grocery store. So I will attempt to corral my mouth and keep saying “Don’t say that. It’s a bad word.” when he gleefully repeats what he has heard. It would help an awful lot if Daddy didn’t laugh at #7 and it would really help if people would just stay off the road when I am out and about.
That would be easier than me trying to not curse.
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