Caution: Don’t Eat The Grass!
This afternoon when I picked Azul up from Pre-school, we went through our regular question and answer routine, what committee were you in today, what song did you sing in music class, who hit who on the playground, same thing we do every commute home.
Once we finalized our afternoon formalities my five year-old said, “We need something to bring in that is like Spring.” Trying to clarify I said, “For show-n-tell?” He replied, “Yes something about Spring and I have an idea.” Testing him, I responded with sarcasm, “What, a snowman?” Laughing his response at me he said, “No crazy. I need you to get me a Tupperware and a top and I’m going to put grass in it. Grass means Spring.” I said, “Oh, awesome you want to bring in some vegetation.” I like to throw different words at him to expand his vocabulary. He usually throws something back at me to lower my expectations!
“Yes, that’s my idea. But, don’t eat the grass because sometimes I pee on it.” Closing my eyes and tilting my head back in amazement I replied, “Thanks for the warning.”
He then went on to explain the difference in how boys and girls pee on the grass. “Girls have to stick out their butts and go tsssss! Boys just stand and pee anywhere like this, tsssss!” Although correct, I hope he doesn’t go into the latter part of the grass explanation during his show-n-tell presentation.
Watch Your Mouth
Azul has been tinkering with using “bad words.” He’ll say, “I’m going to tell you a funny story, but I have to say a bad word.” Immediately he puts his hand over his mouth ready to catch the foulness about to escape and stares at me wide-eyed. I usually shrug and answer, “A bad word? Okay, go ahead.” I am always curious as to what word he wants to use, which are usually not real bad words at all, so of course I’m going to say okay, not to mention I have a potty mouth and my five year-old is well aware of that fact.
Having a potty mouth is really an understatement — I cuss like a sailor. I’m not sure if it is hereditary, my mom says I had a great-grandmother who would make a grown man blush with her colorful dialect, or the nature of the business I worked in for years (pause, deep breath) — Radio.
Some of the dirtiest things you will never hear on the radio are said when the “on the air” light is off. I have always had a fairly liberal view of off-color language. If it’s used for emphasis or to make a point or to be funny, by all means use it, be creative but never hateful.
The rule I have always had to follow at work has been set up by the FCC (Federal Communications Commission), and when Azul is older, those will be the rules I will enforce in my own home as well, much to the dismay of my husband. So for now we will follow my husband’s rules, in that Azul can’t cuss. And whatever the reason is for my talented linguistics, it is what it is, and Azul knows he should not talk like me. In one instance he questioned these rules and I replied in the most kind and gentle mom voice I could muster, “I can talk like this because I’m a fucking adult and you’re a kid.” I might have used that “emphasis” only to get his attention, and it worked. Now he resorts to prefacing his “cussing” by asking for permission.
I may change my mind once I have to start doing detention at school with him for cussing.
Degree in Boys
I have learned a lot about boys, and men for that matter, from my son Azul. He is now five years old and that is almost as much time as I spent finishing my undergraduate studies. So, I guess I am well on my way to getting my Bachelor’s Degree in Boys.
In this week’s class, my wise and competent professor said, “If you stand in one position for a long time, your feet and pee-pee get tickly.”
I was not aware of that fact, but now I am. This is quite an education I am getting.
Carmelina Hart 