I’m a parent and I’ve always tried my best to speak to my children as adults, so rarely will you hear any soft and smushy voices in my household (well, except when I’m speaking to my husband of course..did you just feel an involuntary spasm in your gut, and the contents of your lunch rising to be ejected out of your mouth?… Good, I do gush a little with my Nissim hahaha, and one day I will post his incredibly handsome mug and you might gush too ;P I digress. Apologies)
Other than speaking, we are a pretty digi-tech family, with daily emails to each other, bbms, whatsapps etc… My daughter Zara, knows what the difference is and has recently taken it upon herself to check my phone in my absence. Unfortunately she managed to see a message from a rather disgruntled friend who had sent me her a bbm message littered with expletives too bold to mention. “Mummy what does… Ffff *@# mean?” Gulp, heart palpitations, a “pardon me?” and a speedy “how dare you read mummy’s messages. Do you understand the concept of privacy?” At the time I thought this might be a good and devious ploy to change the subject, with hope that I had brainwashed whatever she thought she read. Well, as we all know, this was not the case. In fact, a few months later whilst on vacation with some other families (thankfully very close friends), we overheard our children discuss the BAD words… Zara turned to me and whispered, “mummy I know which one they are talking about. It was the one beginning with F that Auntie XXXX sent on BBM.” She was sharing this information with me as if to say, “your secret is safe with me.” I had never spoken of this since the incident. In fact I don’t think I ever addressed it. It was too severe a word for me to explain or even try to defend, so like all responsible parents I just assumed that she had forgotten about it… Obviously not. Somewhere in her synapse she knew that it was forbidden vocabulary, like the word “stupid” and “idiot”… Not!
Another time I recall driving to a birthday party and missing the turn 3 times, and each time I took a deep breath and said, “SHHHHH…ugar!” A few days later Zachary, who was 4 at the time, hurt his foot in soccer and looked at me and said with conviction, “SHHHugar mummy, my toe! It hurts!” Of course I registered exactly when and where he heard that and, yes, guilty as charged, it was 100% my fault. The only consolation to myself was that at least it was sugar and not Shit!
However I have let the occasional SH#T and OH F@#K slip whenever I’ve stubbed my toe or suffered from road rage… Admittedly road rage happens a lot, hence I rarely drive in Hong Kong, and now you know why.
Cursing is unavoidable. Birds Do it, Bees Do it, even the Mrs Appleby’s Do It, so what is the best course of action. Do we explain why we do it to our children? Or should we just let them do as we do, say SHHHHHugar?
In my search for the utopian curse-free bubble I found this article written from 2 different perspectives of parenting. Please read it. It was definitely enlightening for me. What do you do?
Do you prefer Sugar over Sh#T, or is the occasional Sh#T a norm for you?
Share if you dare 🙂
Images: Blogs.babycenter.com; metrolic.com; Dreamtownmedia.com;