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KIDS CUSSING AND CURSING THANKS TO PROFANE PARENTS
The Family Curse and Genetics of Profanity
How my kids have inherited my foul language
“SONOFABITCH.”
I looked at my child.
She was staring into our snack cabinet and holding the doors open, only a few feet from me. I was in the middle of grabbing a beer out of the fridge when, from behind the open door of my Maytag, I heard the exclamation.
“SONOFABITCH.”
“Um,” I said as I closed the fridge door, bending my neck toward her, “What?”
“We’re out of Oreos,” she said, looking at me with a deadpan expression.
“Sonofabitch,” I said.
I love Oreos.
Potty-mouth time
My kids swear.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I live in New England where pretty much every other word here is “frick” or “friggin,” which are watered-down versions of the other “F” word.
The first words a baby hears upon exiting its mother’s womb in a New England hospital are, “HOLY **** IT’S A F***ING [insert gender here].” And that was from the doctor.
