Our cursing three-year-old: Friend or Enemy?

One beautiful autumn morning, whilst looking out the window at the idyllic scene of squirrels ferreting away their cache of delectables for the winter, Lander said, “Those stupid squirrels. When they’re in our yard, they’re fucking squirrels. When they’re not in our yard, they’re not fucking squirrels.” I nodded solemnly, and then hurried away to the computer to e-mail the quote to Amos before I forgot its exact wording. (Note: the word “fucking” in this context was used as an adjective, not a verb. The latter would have been interesting, but it was not that type of a nature show that day.)

What is a parent to do in this day and age of pirate-speak? Specifically, what is a pirate-speaking parent to do? Friends, I know not the answer, but I must venture to say, I am perfecting the art of the solemn nod, and the art of rhyming with curse words.

Last week when we arrived at nursery school, the door to the main room was closed. We were bent on finding out what the Question of the Day was (every day there is a new question to answer upon arrival at school, such as, “Have you ever made hummus?” or, “Are you wearing anything with pockets today?”), so this closed door had no place in our plans, and certainly not in Lander’s plans, as he is yet unable to open such a formidable object as that door, and I am always several steps behind him before I actually catch up. So what did he say when he saw the closed door, blocking his way to the much-anticipated question? He said, “This door is a fucking door.” I looked around, saw no one, and nodded solemnly. I said, “Yes, this is a blocking door.” I mean, WTF?

This morning, the automatic faucet at the nursery school was giving us some grief, not turning on when we made the magical motion with our hands. TURN ON, FAUCET!!! TURN ONNNNNNN!!! (God damn it!!) Anyway, it was not obeying, so Lander laughed and said in an adorable, rather loud, laughing voice, “This faucet is a fucking faucet.” The mom behind us pretended not to hear. I just nodded solemnly and said, “This faucet is NOT a working faucet.” Seriously, that effing faucet was NOT working. Yeah, I have no idea how to handle this one.

—Kara

Ol’ Pirate Face

P.S. I also find it rather convenient that the word “asshole” rhymes with “gas hole,” as I primarily slip up with that one while driving.

This originally appeared on my blog, Freedom From Sushi, on January 30, 2014.