In a recent experience at the bank, my 4-year-old, Lily, and I were discussing the potential flavors of the lollipops she might receive. As we waited, the bank tube returned, but instead of a treat, it brought back an empty receipt. “Oh no, Lily! It seems the teller forgot to include your sucker,” I said, attempting to keep my tone light.
Seconds passed in a tense silence before she suddenly exclaimed, “Dammit!” and hurled her drawing materials onto the minivan floor. If only she could see my face! Despite the surprise, I couldn’t help but chuckle at her perfect use of the word. Honestly, who wouldn’t be frustrated by a sucker-less bank visit?
After a brief talk about how that word is meant for adults, I suggested alternatives like “rats” and “shucks,” which I would never utter in real life. I thought I had made an impact.
However, later that day, my 9-year-old, Emma, informed me that Lily had just attempted to ask Siri a question on the iPad, only to be met with the infuriating response of “I’m afraid I can’t take any questions right now.” In response, Lily slammed the tablet onto the couch and shouted, “Dammit!” Clearly, my earlier lecture hadn’t made much of an impression.
Days later, during a conversation about the Broncos game, I told her they had lost, to which she replied, “Oh, bammit!” Clearly, she had found a clever workaround.
This wasn’t our first encounter with colorful language. At age 2, Lily went through a stage with the F-word, using it flawlessly in context. For example, when she spilled her snack bowl, she quietly muttered, “Ohhhh, f***.”
During a family road trip, I found myself praying that she wouldn’t blurt that word in front of Grandma Betty, who is 92. Initially, I tried to ignore the swearing, hoping not to turn it into a power struggle. But when she let it slip at her daycare, I knew I had to intervene gently. Thankfully, there were no calls from outraged parents about their toddlers suddenly cursing.
My older daughter, Emma, who is typically the rule-follower, had her own brush with swearing. One day, when she couldn’t find her favorite pink pants, she said, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to wait ’til f***ing morning!” I had to stifle my laughter while turning my back to her. When I asked her to repeat what she said, she quickly changed it to, “I guess I’ll just have to wait ’til crummy morning!” That was the end of her brief cursing phase.
Here’s the reality: I don’t see swearing as a major issue. The truth is, my children have certainly picked up these words from me. While I don’t frequently curse around them, I have been known to utter a “dammit” when things go awry, like burning bagels or missing the school bus. For me, shielding them from such language isn’t a priority. I believe they will hear these words and learn to navigate their usage as they grow.
Interestingly, Lily is quite sensitive to the word “stupid,” and she often reports anyone saying it, including characters on TV. My children know that truly hurtful words—like “hate,” “shut up,” and “dumb”—are not tolerated in our home. However, an occasional “dammit” from a loving child? I can handle that.
For more insights on family planning and insemination, check out this informative post related to couples’ journeys. You can also explore this resource for comprehensive information on pregnancy and home insemination. Additionally, for those considering self-insemination, visit this authority site for valuable guidance.
In summary, while managing a child’s use of profanity can be a challenge, it’s essential to recognize the context and intent behind their words. Rather than enforcing strict prohibitions, fostering an understanding of appropriate language and its impact may yield better long-term results.
Keyphrase: preschooler swearing
Tags: [“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]