Yesterday, while trying to locate a pink crayon that rolled under the couch, my daughter sat up and said “Where the hell did it go daddy?” (I wonder where she got that from)I’m constantly amazed at how she understands the terminology and how to apply it in the right context. A little sponge absorbing literally everything we say….including bad words. I think it was a couple of months back when I missed a parking spot down in Redwood City and I said “G&% Dammit!” out loud. Within a second I heard her sweet little voice from the back seat say “G%^ Dammit Daddy!” I wanted to turn around and show her I was crying with laughter but obviously that would have sent the wrong message.
I know that I’m terrible when it comes to my language. I’m either screaming at the S.F. Giants on TV or yelling at our nasty little cats and their litter box feet to get the “F” off the counter! My daughter happens to be starting a 3-week summer school session in a couple of weeks and the last thing I want her saying to the teacher is “G%^ Damn Giants!” It’s hard though! To go from a routine way of everyday life to adjusting to the little ones that crash into your shins and poke you in the eye. But guess what…it’s our job to adjust to them! I have great parents who set the standard for the parent I am and I only want to do the same for my daughter.
I’ll tell you one thing, if I don’t watch my language the following is likely to occur:
Mall Santa: Merry Christmas Little Girl! What would you like for christmas?
My Daughter: Ummmmmm, F%$& the Dodgers!