The Mother of all F-Bombs

It was about a year-and-a half ago, that I experienced for the first time, my child dropping the F-bomb.  We weren’t exactly in public, but it was close enough.  

Since that day, I haven’t had the joy of a repeat.  Ryan seems to have the memory of an elephant, and never forgets anything he overhears, so I have become VERY mindful of watching what I say.  To the best of my memory, I don’t recall any questionable words coming out of my mouth since that incident- even when I step on the pointed blocks, or one of the thousands of other toys that pierce my foot.  I bite my tongue and say “ouch!”  Yes, I’ve been the perfect model of appropriate language.  

You can imagine my dismay then, when over the course of the last few weeks, I have heard Cole say softly, under his breath, when he gets hurt, “mother f*****r.”  The first time I heard him say it, I tried not to react negatively, so he wouldn’t think that word would get a reaction out of me.  I simply told him that was not a word we use.  A few days passed, and I heard it again.  Once when he fell down, another time in the tub, when he got water in his eyes.  I keep trying to reiterate to him not to say that word, while trying to stay calm.  

A week ago I heard it again and I stepped it up.  I told him (calmly, but firmly) that I do not want to ever hear him say that word again.  Since it is getting close to Christmas, and I can start using Santa Claus, I told him Santa doesn’t like to hear anyone say that word either.  Ryan was standing nearby listening to everything, and added that the elves don’t like that word either.  Cole turned very solemn, and when I asked him if he understood he is to never use that word, he nodded very seriously.

I haven’t heard it in several days, and I figured problem solved.  One lesson you learn over and over as a parent is, never figure on anything.

Yesterday, my two sweet little boys and I were in Target, in the very busy toothpaste aisle.  There were at least ten other people in the aisle with their kids of various ages.  Ryan and Cole were a few steps away from me looking at the toothbrushes.  It had grown silent in the toothpaste aisle, as everyone was contemplating their purchases.  At that very moment, Ryan say in a loud, clear, crisp voice, “Mom, Cole said MOTHERF****R again!” 

I didn’t think the toothpaste aisle could get any quieter but I was wrong.  I think everyone, (myself included) just stood there for a moment, like time standing still, wondering if they really heard what they thought they did.  And to remind us that we did, Ryan started to say again, “Mom…” this time his mother hushed him.

Then people started laughing.  One lady was turning red, she was laughing so hard.  I was turning red, but not because it was funny (okay it is funny, but not when your child is the one talking like a sailor, and not in the moment.)  I apologized to everyone in the aisle, and no one seemed really offended. Thankfully, they all seemed to think it was funny, because it wasn’t their child that had just said it. 

I kneeled down in front of the boys, in my most serious voice, (forget the calm, rational voice) and we had a very intense talk.  The result being both boys promised me they wouldn’t say the mother f-bomb again. 

You can’t control every word that is uttered from your children, but you can take steps to teach them why certain words are not used, and make sure they understand.  Sometimes (as in this case), it is a fine tuning process. 

I’m not going to bring up Santa anymore either with Ryan and Cole.  They are capable of behaving well, without the “threat” of Santa not bringing them presents.  Besides, Santa has it easy.  The elves don’t talk.