P dropped her first four-letter word on December 26th, 2015. She was barely three years old.
It was an F-bomb. Daddy was proud.
We were stuck in traffic 14+ hours into an 18-hour day spent with six of us crammed into Fezzik for a very optimistic day trip to Grand Canyon and Sedona—from home in Phoenix. Everyone was tired. Everyone wanted the fuck out of the truck.
If I remember right, Uncle Patrick jokingly blamed the traffic jam on Obi (Grandma J), saying “Way to fuck it up, Obi.”
As if on cue, P exclaims, “Way to fuck it up, Obi!”
Two years later, P and I are on our way home from dinner when she says something about vagina. She’s been using this word—completely innocently, of course—several times a day. For about a month.
Ironically, that makes me a little uncomfortable.
Probably because I don’t know whom else she’s so openly discussing her private parts with (however inadvertently). In any case, I told her when it’s just she and I, she doesn’t have to say things like “son of a gun, what the heck”.
“They’re just words. We say they’re ‘bad’ because some people don’t like to hear them and we want to be nice and respect their wishes. But when it’s just you and me, you can say anything you want.”
She’s too young to get the only difference between “asshole” and “butthole” is vanity.
But she can understand Daddy will always listen to what she’s saying, instead of criticizing her choice of words.
Fuck that. They’re only words.