Things you learn on the bus cannot be taught in the classroom of academia, but only in the classroom of life. It is rumored that I was a verbal child in my developmental years. I can only thank my brother for that. He is the kind of kid who loved me and yet made sure I would do things, and better, say things to drive my parents crazy. I can honestly blame my sailor mouth on my brother. I take complete responsability now in how I talk and when I use "sentence enhancers" which really isn't often, just in perilous situations, or out of sheer frustration. But John, he was the one who claimed he got it from the "bus and summer fun day camp." It all has to start somewhere. Very needless to say, I would repeat whatever he said to me and I made my parents cringe repeatedly by the "string of sentence enhancers" that would escape my mouth, especially at an early age.
With that being said, Owen fired one off tonight that nealy left me breathless and in complete shock. He proceeds to tell a story about a girl who has a special "notebook." And in that notebook are written all kinds of things. He is telling me this story, while I am playing a mindless game on my Kindle, "There's words like, butt face, and bugers and FUDGE! (Only it wasn't fudge. It was that other word.) What The? "Excuse me?" And then I made deadly eye contact with him. The kind of eye contact that made him sink below eye level into the tub. I proceeded to mouth all kinds of completely deadly threats if he ever used that word again. Mind you, he is in the bath with Jack while he is telling me this whole story. And then there is Max sitting by desperately trying to understand which word made my blood curdle, "Mom what was the word? What's going on, did he say Buck? Is that a bad word?"
Believe it or not, I didn't tell Max to shut up. BUT, I did tell Owen that that was the worst of the worst words. The mother of all cuss words. We don't ever say it. I am still mouthing this, barely above audible levels. Jack had his back to me and didn't know anything was awry, therefore, he did NOT repeat THE WORD to end all words. Phew.
No harm, no foul. I did have to wonder, "Owen, where was this notebook? Was it at school at recess? (another hot zone for learning too much unsupervised)"
"No, the girl was on the bus and she was showing my friends and I happened to look over and see all the words she had written in her book." BINGO. The Bus, great education happens there. I wanted to call this girls mother, her mother's mother, and make them all wear a great big scarlet letter F for Gutter-talking-scabby-little-stink-wad girl (none of those words had an "f" in them, I know this). But then I got a grip and realized something. I can't shelter this child forever. And I can't be there to make sure he doesn't hear the bad stuff. In fact, I if he hears the bad stuff, I want to konw about it so I can chat with him about it and let him where I stand on it all. He's going to hear it no matter what. So I thought it was better just to tell him, "Oboe, we don't use bad language no matter where it is written. It's just not what we do. Please make good choices and choose not to say bad words. Agreed?"
He looked so stunned and a little like a deer in the headlights, he barely nodded his head in agreement.
Anyone want to want another episode of Sponge Bob and Sailor Talk with us?
Thankfully, I haven't heard it since then.
Now, if I could just get Jackson to quit repeating everything his brothers say like "momma jokes" and various Katy Perri songs.
3 comments:
Isaac, my middle one, wants so bad to be funny he will repeat whatever gets a rise out of someone or anything anyone slightly giggles at. He also shows shock when I was so upset after the F word, I hate that one, it's so ugly! He thought it was supposed to be cool or funny. He learned the F word (not from me like other "sentance enhances"...I hear you Becca) from where I don't know because he was 4 and couldn't tell me. But I only found out when he had already taught the word to a couple other kids from church who happened to be at my house. I had no idea, but have decided never to judge other parents again from whom my kids might learn bad words because now it was my kid who ruined innocent ears. Kids are so humbling. I have to watch that one though.
Kids are curious though, I remember when I was little and wanted to know what the F word was because it was so forbidden and a bunch of kids heard it was written on the bleachers behind the school so all the kids searched for hours but couldn't find it. This was very Mormon Idaho Falls. We weren't going to use it, but wanted to know what it was.
Oh, I love your stories.
I'd love to figure out, though, just WHY that particular word is the grand-daddy of all cuss-bombs. I mean, is there a Cursing Committee appointed to develop a "badness" scale? Poor Owen. Poor Mommy.
Becca! I AGREE! The first instinct in me is to shelter my children from all evil. Heck - I was sheltered from all evil as a child, I couldn't even watch Sesame Street because my parents felt the government was controlling our little brains through that show. Guess what happened to me? When I could rebel, I did and I wanted to try every little bad thing I wasn't allowed to do, see or hear as a youngin'. I think if we are honest and upfront with our children about the bad things in this world and the affects of them, they are more likely to steer clear of them. I was told sex was bad as a child, I was never told that it was a gift and a blessing when done inside the sacred confines of marriage.
Kids are smart, kids need details and knowledge so they can make their own sound decisions when they are old enough to. Tell your children why swear words are bad, tell them why we don't say them. Tell them they will hear these words almost EVERYWHERE, but please choose not to use them because they make you look silly and as if you have no vocabulary. I am guilty of using "sentence enhancers" as well but have curbed it because of my children. Enoch was quite the parrot at 3.
Way to go Becca. Honesty is the best policy and always will be.
LOVE YOU!!!
Post a Comment