A swearing toddler is all fun and games until it’s your own | Home With Tess
Recently, I was faced with the consequences of my actions at a magnitude with which I’m not sure I’ve yet dealt.
It started with a word. One tiny, four-letter word, beginning with F and ending with K, uttered by the mouth of a babe.
As I wrangled my almost-2-year-old son Henry into his car seat the other day, wrestling with straps that felt unusually tight, I playfully said, “What the?” not intending to finish my sentence.
He went ahead and finished it for me. And not with one of the milder words that would have worked in that context.
I do wish I could’ve seen my face when he said that, because I know it was funny. I know this because he let out a quick chuckle before repeating the word again, and again, and again.
I felt my breath zip up and eyes pop out before diving behind his seat to try to squander near-uncontrollable laughter.
Children swearing is, I think, undeniably funny. In fact, I have long held it as one of the simplest joys of life, dating back to when I was a mere child who had watched “Meet the Fockers.” The little blond boy in that movie who learned the word “a**hole” from Focker looked so much like my little brother at the time that it inspired me to teach him how to say it, too.
But this most recent incident, rest assured, was not intentional. And the longer I thought about it, the more that humor was replaced by horror.
Because this was not done in jest or on purpose. No, this was merely my son parroting what he had heard before.
I have seen bits of myself, as well as my husband, pop up in Henry as he gets older. His fierce independence is mine; his feisty spirit and love for nature are also me.
But this was perhaps the most flagrant sign that this child is mine. I won’t say I’m the only person who exposes him to swearing, but I do admit I have not been as cautious with cussing as I should be. (I’ll spare you the studies that show how smart, creative and honest that makes me.)
If you’re tempted to disparage me, don’t worry — I’m right there with you! I have felt immense guilt since that fateful day. Have I already tainted my son’s innocence? Have I created an unfixable problem that will plague us for years to come? How could I have been so casual about such profanities?
As Rodney Atkins sings in his sweet song “Watching You,” which fittingly is about this same exact scenario with his young son: “Lord, please help me help my stupid self.”
I’m a perfectionist by nature, and I try to do my best in every situation. But parenthood has come with pressures to do so at levels I’d never imagined. Every misstep feels consequential, every sizable mistake disastrous.
Having a child is like having a mini version of yourself who follows you all day long holding up a mirror. They not only look like you and inherit some of your personality traits; they also begin to act just like you, revealing some of your greatest strengths and also your biggest flaws.
Thankfully, I was able to quickly divert my son to saying another word that sounded funny and felt spicy on the tongue (schnikes). I haven’t heard him drop the F bomb since that day.
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But it was certainly a reminder that my son is always watching and listening. I’m responsible for being not only the person he needs me to be, but also the type of person I want to see him be.
At the end of the day, it’s a tall order and I’m only human, but gosh darn it if I’m not gonna try. See? I’m already learning.
Reach Theresa “Tess” Bennett at tbennett@gannett.com.
This article originally appeared on Akron Beacon Journal: Kids love to copy their parents, and swearing is no exception
