Mommy's a bad girl

Two nights ago, my son was telling a story when he said, clear as day, "These fucking pants wouldn't come off."

For emphasis, he added, "These fucking pants are so stupid."

Have I mentioned that he's only four?

I just sat there in shocked silence, unsure of how to proceed. Seven, whose back was turned to Nicky, tried not to laugh. We looked at each other, then I looked at Nicky. What do I say?

Normally, I could have glared at my husband accusingly and blamed him for our son's foul mouth. (I think it was part of our wedding vows. I promise to love and honor you. . .blame you for all that is wrong in my life and use you as a scapegoat when our children act inappropriately. . .something like that.) The problem is that when the occasional curse word slips from Seven's lips, it's not the one my son just used. I could have blamed Nicky's friends or preschool (what the fuck do they teach him there anyway?), but they, too, speak the wrong language. Pooh Bear speaks English in our house, but I don't think it was from him. Can you imagine?

Winnie the Pooh, such a silly bear, stomping around his little house shrieking, "These fucking honey pots are EMPTY! EMPTY! Now what the fuck am I supposed to eat?!!!! Blippety-blip-blip-blip!" Throws honey pots across the room.

No, the only way my innocent young son could have picked up on that word, AND it's correct usage is from. . .me. (Hanging head in shame). I refuse to remember when I've used such profanity around my young children, but apparently I have.

Of course, I don't want my son running around cursing like a sailor on the playground at preschool. However, I didn't want to scold him for innocently using a word he thought was giving emphasis to his story. Pants vs. fucking pants convey a very different meaning, don't they? Come to think of it, perhaps I shouldn't feel guilty at all! I should be PROUD that my son is learning to add color to his story-telling at such a tender age. PROUD, I say. What a fantastic mother I'm turning out to be. um, no? sigh.

So I wanted to emphasize that we shouldn't use that word without making him feel bad for his little language experiment. I also wanted to acknowledge my own role -- before he could point out the obvious -- in why he thought it was okay to use it. Don't worry, I'm not running around my house screeching profane words at every turn, but I admit to having muttered naughty words on occasion. Thankfully, I don't live in Hawaii and drive on the highways there. Otherwise, my son would have been cursing a lot earlier. I seriously don't cuss all that much anymore, especially since having kids. However, behind the wheel of a car, on the H-1, some other foul-mouthed, psycho-woman takes over my soul.

I just told Nicky that it was a bad word and that no one should use it. He heard it from Mommy, though, didn't he? Yeah. Mommy is wrong to use that word. I should never use it. Maybe he could help me. I will remind him not to use that word anymore, if he will help me remember that I can't use that word either. Could he help me remember? He said he could. Thanks, honey. What a kid!

As for his mother, that woman needs to watch her fucking mouth. What's wrong with people?!