DADWAGON

Came across this amusing bit on cursing written by a friend of ours at Dadlabs with tips on how to avoid cursing in front of your child:

“Put the kids to bed at 4:30.  This really cuts down the amount of swearing that they hear. Do no not open product packaging around the kids, especially “blister packs.” You might consider building an “opening shed.” You could also assemble stuff from Ikea there.

If there are children in the area, do not install new system software on your computer. Or use the printer. Or deal with the wireless router.

Never drive with your children. Installing a plexiglass “taxicab-style” divider might work, but it would need to be very thick.

Never hit your elbow.”

I must admit that I have something of a, well, potty-mouth, and from time to time, a few blue words have been uttered in front of JP. Nothing in truly bad taste, mind you, but, as a native New Yorker, I would like to think I possess a certain flair for the fuck you.

Unlike my friend and esteemed colleague Christopher, I’m not entirely convinced that JP hearing me curse is a big deal. Nor do the Dadlabs folks, either, apparently, as this is what they think happens if you don’t curse in front of them:

Your children will grow up knowing that the world is never a frustrating or annoying place. They will understand that it is certainly possible to bottle up all your negative feelings if you just try hard enough. They will assume that drivers cutting them off on Mopac are just citizens like themselves trying to make their way through a busy, busy world, not deserving of invective.

But, like most parents, I am very capable of being shamed into better parenting. Thus, the other day, when Frankie, our dog, stole and shredded one of JP’s toys, and JP shouted “fucking dog!” at young Frankie (laughing and do a mocking version of my voice), I told him not to do it again. And I even pretended I meant it.

Fucking dog.