We don’t talk like that – at least not in front of you


My son was 5-years-old the first time I heard him cuss.  We were getting out of the car for t-ball practice when he dropped his ball and it rolled under the car.  The minute the ball hit the pavement my little angel said, “Aw, shit” under his breath.  The word was spoken so casually, so naturally, that all I could do was stare in shock.  After he retrieved the ball he looked at me and frowned.  “What?”

“J!” I said “You do NOT say that word!”

His little face scrunched as he tried to remember what he’d said wrong.  When the light-bulb finally went off, he rolled his eyes and said in a totally put-out voice, “Fine. Sorry.” Then ran off with his team.

Nearly four years later, we’ve dealt with several similar ‘slips’ from my son, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when he brought me my iPod the other day scrolling through a playlist he knows he’s not allowed to listen to.

“Mom can I listen to this song?” he asked, holding out the iPod. “It only has the f-word a couple of times.”

“No!” I shouted, exasperated. “The f-word is like the worst word you can ever say!”

He gave me a patient look. “I’m pretty sure that saying G-O-D when you’re not praying is worse than the f-word, Mom.  Because that’s like using God’s name like a cuss word and He doesn’t like that.”

He didn’t listen to the song but I had to smile.  Maybe I had done something right with him:)


About Megan Powell

Coffee loving, boo-boo kissing, mom and fan-girl who also happens to be the author of Urban Fantasy novels, NO PEACE FOR THE DAMNED and its sequel, NO LOVE FOR THE WICKED. Check out my upcoming releases at http://www.meganpowellbooks.com.

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