New Column: Use Your Words...Just Not *THOSE* Words
Remember the TV show "Kids Say the Darndest Things" in which host Bill Cosby teased tiny toothless tots into lisping out adorably charming and clever phrases?
That's kind of what it's been like in our house lately. Only here, the show would be hosted by Dave Chappelle and carry an "R" rating.
Ever since he began talking in earnest a few months ago, 3-year-old William has quickly developed an impressive range of verbal skills. He speaks in intelligent, articulate sentences.
Unfortunately, his newfound vocabulary also includes some more, well, unwelcome elements.
It started last year, when most of his words were still pretty unintelligible. Dropping a toy on the floor, he'd wrinkle up his nose and say something that sounded an awful lot like a swear word.
My husband and I looked at each other over his head. "Did he really..." I started - "...just say what I think he said?" he finished.
We couldn't be sure. But as the months went by, we started to hear other declarations coming from his mouth.
"Farg!" he'd shout when he stubbed his toe. "Whad da WELL?" he'd ask quizzically when something surprised him. "Gol-dame it!" he yelled when his block tower tumbled.
At first, we weren't too concerned. As long as his words were garbled and unclear, we could pretend that our son wasn't an incorrigible potty mouth.
Until recently. Something clicked in Will's brain, and his thoughts, tongue and lips decided to work in unison. Suddenly, his language was clear and distinct. We could understand everything he said. And one of the first things he said - after spilling his milk on the table - was "Dammit!"
It was unmistakably a cuss word. I'd be lying if I said I didn't turn my head and laugh a little. Hearing a big, mean word like that squeak out of a little kid's mouth is pretty funny - the first time.
But not so much the 10th, 15th or 20th times. And not when more words - some decidedly more dirty than "dammit" - also started flying.
At this age, I figured we'd have to watch William closely to make sure he didn't push other kids on the playground. I never imagined we'd have to worry about him dropping the F-bomb.
And I felt more than a little guilt: I'd never thought of myself as a potty mouth, but suddenly memories of myself shouting some very bad words when I'd hurt myself or dropped a dish started playing in my head. But feeling guilty wasn't going to stop my son's swearing. We needed to come up with a way to break the habit. But how do you explain what a bad word is, when they're too young to understand what they mean?
I'm not the "let them eat soap" type, so that was out. We tried to ignore it, not wanting to call attention to undesirable behavior. But he'd repeat the offending word louder and louder, thinking we simply hadn't heard.
We tried saying "William, don't say that -- it's not a nice word!" To which he shrugged his shoulders, put on his best 'whatever, mom' voice, and replied: "What? I just said dammit!"
Finally, we decided that the only way to clean up his cussing mouth was to help him forget those words existed. We each vowed to clean up our vocabularies and keep a more careful watch on the TV, eliminating the opportunity for him to hear any profanity at all.
We also gave him alternatives. "Rats!" I'd shout as I stubbed my toe. "Aw, man!" Jon would complain if he dropped something on the floor.
In the end, it was Spongebob Squarepants that saved the day. William decided that Spongebob's signature interjection, "Tartar Sauce!" was far more satisfying to shout than any word on the list of forbidden expletives. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
Plus, hearing William yell "Tartar sauce!" was so adorable that we couldn't get enough.
One day, as he played on the floor with his toy cars, one of them rolled away from him. He mumbled something under his breath.
Hoping to get a taste of the cuteness, I asked 'Hey Will - what did you just say?"
He looked at me sweetly and chirped, "I said, 'Tartar sauce, dammit!'"
