We Need A Cuss Jar
"Mommy, can I get an ice cream from McDonald's?"
Ever since I started carrying gluten-free ice cream cones in the back of my car, the DragonMonkey has been obsessed with the dollar soft serve ice creams from McDonald's. I can't say I blame him - he's been eating it out of a cup for so many years that using a cone is almost more of a treat than the ice cream itself.
Unfortunately, we were late. We had places to go, and besides - I didn't feel like stopping. "Sorry, kid. No ice cream today."
He sighed - a resigned, almost adult sound that drifted from the backseat. "Damnit." He said it under his breath, in a soft, quiet little voice.... just not quiet enough.
My head whipped around so fast I heard my neck crack. "WHAT? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"
The DragonMonkey hunched down beneath my gaze, trying to fold in on himself. This wasn't the first time we'd talked about "bad words". It would be nice to blame his newfound appreciation for cussing on the kindergarten riffraff at school.... but since I've already had one very embarrassing talk with his teachers about the DragonMonkey's potty mouth, I'm coming to the realization that my son might very well be the riffraff.
So, we've been cleaning up our language as of late... although, apparently, not enough. Hunching his shoulders, the DragonMonkey lowered his head, his hair sliding forward over his eyes in an effort to hide himself from my angry glare. Effective though it might be, I realized I probably shouldn't be shooting my glare-of-death towards the backseat while I was driving the car, so I turned back to face road.
"Young man, we do NOT use language like that, do you hear me?"
He opened his mouth to apologize, already nodding, when he was interrupted by the Squid.
"What'd you say? What'd you say? Mama, what'd he say?" Apparently the Squid needed to know the exact bad word that had been said so he could avoid saying it.
If that doesn't make sense to you, then you're probably not three years old.
"Squid, it's not important."
"Which bad word? Which bad word you say, DragonMonkey?" Squid was not about to be deterred. Someone had said a bad word, and by golly, he was gonna get to the bottom of the mystery.
"Squid, it doesn't matter what word your brother said, only that it was a very, very, very bad word-"
"NUH-UH!" the DragonMonkey interrupted. "I didn't say a very, very, very bad word, I only said 'damnit'."
Ah, yes. My kindergartener knows how to rank foul language. Awesome. I am a totally awesome mom.
"DRAGONMONKEY!"
"What? What you say? What word was it?" Squid asked again, raising his voice to be heard over me. He needed to know. For... for science.
"SQUID!"
"I said 'damnit'," supplied my six year old. He's helpful like that.
"DRAGONMONKEY!"
"I didn't say it again! I was just telling Squid that I said 'damnit' cuz he asked."
"DRAGONMONKEY!"
"No, Mama," said the ever-helpful Squid, rising to the defense of his brother. "He just say 'damnit' to me, not a bad word damnit."
"DAMNI--- I mean, darn it boys, would you guys quit saying damn it?"
Cuss jar.
Bean, we really, really, really need to get that cuss jar going.
Ever since I started carrying gluten-free ice cream cones in the back of my car, the DragonMonkey has been obsessed with the dollar soft serve ice creams from McDonald's. I can't say I blame him - he's been eating it out of a cup for so many years that using a cone is almost more of a treat than the ice cream itself.
Unfortunately, we were late. We had places to go, and besides - I didn't feel like stopping. "Sorry, kid. No ice cream today."
He sighed - a resigned, almost adult sound that drifted from the backseat. "Damnit." He said it under his breath, in a soft, quiet little voice.... just not quiet enough.
My head whipped around so fast I heard my neck crack. "WHAT? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"
So, we've been cleaning up our language as of late... although, apparently, not enough. Hunching his shoulders, the DragonMonkey lowered his head, his hair sliding forward over his eyes in an effort to hide himself from my angry glare. Effective though it might be, I realized I probably shouldn't be shooting my glare-of-death towards the backseat while I was driving the car, so I turned back to face road.
"Young man, we do NOT use language like that, do you hear me?"
He opened his mouth to apologize, already nodding, when he was interrupted by the Squid.
"What'd you say? What'd you say? Mama, what'd he say?" Apparently the Squid needed to know the exact bad word that had been said so he could avoid saying it.
If that doesn't make sense to you, then you're probably not three years old.
"Squid, it's not important."
"Which bad word? Which bad word you say, DragonMonkey?" Squid was not about to be deterred. Someone had said a bad word, and by golly, he was gonna get to the bottom of the mystery.
"Squid, it doesn't matter what word your brother said, only that it was a very, very, very bad word-"
"NUH-UH!" the DragonMonkey interrupted. "I didn't say a very, very, very bad word, I only said 'damnit'."
Ah, yes. My kindergartener knows how to rank foul language. Awesome. I am a totally awesome mom.
"DRAGONMONKEY!"
"What? What you say? What word was it?" Squid asked again, raising his voice to be heard over me. He needed to know. For... for science.
"SQUID!"
"I said 'damnit'," supplied my six year old. He's helpful like that.
"DRAGONMONKEY!"
"I didn't say it again! I was just telling Squid that I said 'damnit' cuz he asked."
"DRAGONMONKEY!"
"No, Mama," said the ever-helpful Squid, rising to the defense of his brother. "He just say 'damnit' to me, not a bad word damnit."
"DAMNI--- I mean, darn it boys, would you guys quit saying damn it?"
Cuss jar.
Bean, we really, really, really need to get that cuss jar going.
posted by Becky at
11:40 PM
7 Comments:
Or move to Australia where no one will judge you for it.
We didn't tell T that cuss words were bad. We told him they were adult words and that he shouldn't use them as an adult. We also told him what the consequences of using them at school would be. Then we paid him a quarter every time we cussed in his hearing. He, however, had to pay us 50 cent if he cussed. We didn't have an issue until he was given permission to cuss when he turned 14. Still hasn't at school, though.
Today the line at the post office was out the door and my packages and myself were getting rained on, smearing the return label on my new but wrong turnout blanket. Finally inside the store, I noticed a little old lady behind me in line, using her package as a table to fill out the shipping label. She had a sweater on, a scarf, glasses, and her hair was neatly curled. I wasn't prepared when she suddenly said, "What is this shit!?" about the label; apparently it confused her. And really, when am I going to finally learn that the S word is just not a bad word in Germany?
For what it is worth...I told Travis and Tony that people who cuss are limited on their vocabulary and that they needed to find the right word to use to express themselves!
Don't look at me. I cuss like a pirate.
And yeah, sometimes that gets awkward in my day job as a librarian....
this is perfect. love it.
As an aside story: I learned all my cuss words from my Dad as I followed him around the yard while he worked on projects.
In the second grade I was allowed to play with a typewriter at school. I finished playing and later, my Mom was called in to talk to the teacher.
I had typed all the bad words I knew. And had spelled them all correctly. The teacher was both mortified and impressed. My Mom still tells the story. I didn't get in trouble, but was told to not do that at school.
Your kids will be just fine.
Hahahaha! I got into the habit of saying "Dammit" when Jeremy was little, but stopped when I heard my then-two year old son say "Danit!" OOPS! I stopped saying that really quickly. Not sure what I substituted for it, though.
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