One of the kids in the neighborhood where I spent my early gradeschool years decided to pick up the habit of scrawling dirty words in prominent places. His first attempt certainly got plenty of attention. On the front of a dumpster, in large, first-grade scrawl, was the word POOP.
No, but I do have a big editor named Doug.
Yeah, interesting that the kid can’t yet swear in English.
Pottymouth.
Back in the day, when I was a wee lad:
young friedo: Oh, sit!
young friedo’s dad: You shouldn’t say that, it’s not nice.
young friedo: OK. Oh, shit!
An Arky, something similar happened to me the other day. A car cut me off in traffic, then slowed down in front of me. I muttered, “Get out out of the way, fucker.” Now, I had no idea my 4-year-old little angel had even heard me, until the offending car moved into the other lane and out of my way. That’s when I heard from the backseat, “Tell the fucker thank you!”
“Tell the fucker thank you!”
:: snicker ::
I try very hard to whitewash my language around my six-year-old. Somehow, however, he’s learned the word “Damn”. I told him to try not to use the word, because it’s not a nice word. So he wanted to know the definition of “damn”.
And thanks to Weeble and Bob, he’s curious as to what is so funny about Hair Pie.
Man, that’s got to be common. My husband picked up “fuck” from one of his then-teenage sisters in a similar fashion - she was driving, he was in the back in the carseat, maybe 2 years old or so. Someone cut her off, she says “fuck!” reflexively, and suddenly lil’ bro has a new word that he just can’t stop using. Around easily-scandalized old people on the street, for instance, not to mention at home.
I recall when I found out Didi had learned the “F” word. She stubbed her toe in the middle of the living room, with the Grandparents around, and clearly said “F*ck!”
Yeah… I figured it was time to watch my language.
Kids say the cutest things, especially when they’re drunk.
Close enough.
I have one of those magnet sets on my fridge where you can dress up David in all sorts of different outfits - in this case, actual dresses. About a year and a half ago, my landlord’s then 5-year-old daughter dropped in and started playing with the magnets. Upon removing David’s skirt, she started jumping up and down yelling “He’s got a willy! He’s got a willy!”
My young bloke is actually quite the prude. Anything from “bloody hell!” through “fuck!” to “du ma!” (in his native Vietnamese) will earn me a stern “Daddy, don’t say that!”.
Some 40 or 50 years in a small town somewhere I was at a bus stop waiting for a southbound bus. A young woman, probably no more that 25 but looking more like 40 was waiting with a passel of yun-uns for the north bound. The bus arrived and she c l i m b e d aboard with the smallesd in her arms. the others followed one by one and all were on board but the toddler who had been occupied in something of interest. Momma hollered: “Come on Baby.”
The toddler replied: "(&*# @$% OUU) Wait for Baby!
PS a passel is 6 or more, this may have been 8 all tolled.
“Beware of the Cog”
I was driving down the road when someone cut me off. Forgetting my 2.5 year old daughter was in the back seat, I said more loudly than I should, “Fuck you!”.
My daughter then queried me, “Why did you say thank you to that person?”. I tried to change the subject.
My observation on kids and language:
You can say “please” 10000 times and it won’t.sink.in. But say “shit” just once, and they own it for life.
I have both the David and Venus magnets–I moved them up higher on the fridge when I came in one day and my 5 yr. old son was charging the neighborhood kids a quarter to see what Venus had on under her gown.
Apparently, when I was a tyke, my father came home from work and I asked him “Daddy, what’s an asshole?” He asked me why I needed to know that, and got the reply: “That’s what Mommy called the man in the other car.” He enjoys that story.
Hell, I remember one Christmas, say, oh, twelve-thirteen years ago, when my aunt and uncle came in from Philadelphia. Their daughter, my cousin, was about two.
Amanda was just starting to swear. We had them over for dinner Christmas Eve. She knocks over her glass and says, “Oh, shit!”
Much laughs. My aunt laughed too-hell, where else did Amanda pick up those words?
Then, the next day, my whole family got together. My cousin Tina and I were playing with Amanda. We were asking her how she swears.
“Say shit Amanda! Can you say shit?”
“Amanda, can you say ‘fuck you’?”
My aunt stood there and just shook her head.
“…and the rest of the country is too jaded to care if Clinton fucks his cat.”
“FUCKS!”
“…Do you want the honor of recording that under ‘baby’s first word,’ or should I?”
- Clarice, Raffi, and Toni, from Alison Bechdel’s Dykes to Watch Out For
I hope this story translates to the written word sufficiently.
When I was young, I was sitting down to a meal with my best friend and his family. His little sister, about 6 years old, announced, “Today I heard a kid say he was going to kick this other kid’s f__king a-s-s.”
Well, at least she tried to tell it cleanly.