Naughty Words
Wednesday, October 8th, 2008
The word “poop” is as dirty as they come in the conversation circles of the children we’re raising. For them, it is the age equivalent to the F-bomb, somehow more profane than “bottom” and “butt,” and not yet crossing the imaginary line I’ve drawn at “hell.”
If I remember right, I was swearing full on by third grade, so somewhere in the next two years, my daughter who started kindergarten this year will be exposed to words much more offensive than I’ve spoken in her presence. The culprit that teaches her the new words no doubt lives in a mile radius (the same radius statistics show that I am likely to be involved in a deadly car accident) from where I sit contemplating my kids’ eventual potty mouths.
The offending child is probably one I’ve met already at a birthday party or a holiday mixer at the nearby elementary school. The thought that I know him or her and might be able to sympathize with the flawed parenting that led to the damaged child’s language use doesn’t comfort me at all. In fact, it does the opposite.
I can hear the children in the other room now. Annie is chasing Charlie around the first level – living room, kitchen, dining room, and on and on – lap after lap, spouting “poop” and other non-sense words that end with “oop.” I feel like interrupting and showing them how it’s done, but I don’t. They are lost in the daring ecstasy of childhood profanity.
“Penis!” They yell it at one another, not insinuating anything inappropriate, just yelling to be yelling. At least they are using the medical term, I think, as I keep to myself upstairs. Their mother and I have explained to them what words are appropriate and why, but generally happens after the children use them plainly in our presence. Why introduce them to offensive words?
My wife has reported that our son has dropped toys in the living room or in parking lots on occasion and, staring down helplessly at the object and said, “Damn it.” That’s the worst it’s gotten, though.
At times, I’ve avoided correcting them in fear that the added attention to the term will drive them to use it more. I don’t want to create an aura around naughty words. I’m actually not particularly bothered by the language. I can go on living my life with people discussing penises and poop in my presence and still go on leading a productive life. After all, I did work in a newsroom for three years.
Really, I’m not offended by what they’re saying, but I correct them on occasion in case someone else might be – to prevent being turned in to the authorities one day for raising children who curse obsessively. I suppose a child’s improper language use could be considered child abuse in some respects, but, again, I am not their only teacher. They have the ears for swears.
The words seek the kids out in their dreams maybe, or maybe they hear them funneling up the stairs at night, after they’re tucked in, and their father has an unconditional license to swear and to watch action movies on DVDs that rattle the walls and are a bit loose in their profanity usage. Come to think of it, maybe I am at fault – and it might be karma returning in a vicious cycle.
Who’s to say how many younger children or perhaps older ones I’ve introduced to words far worse than “privates” or “stupid?” But it’s hard to oblige by the rules we’ve set for the children or even what’s best for them when the naughty words are so … inoffensive. Hell, it’s almost impossible.
