Jane squished her finger in the door.
Not a mangled bleeding smash but a decently painful squish. She came to me, crying and holding it. I did the concerned mom thing, “Are you alright? Let me see it?” Jane did the woeful child thing and sniffled as she held out her, seemingly fine, hurt middle finger.
Then she looked down at her middle finger extended toward me and cried,
“I’m soooorrryyyyy! I think I just swore at you with my finger!” and collapsed face down on the bed.
It was good that she was face down in a pillow while I worked on controlling the middle schooler trapped in a mom’s body thing so that I was able to get back to the concerned mom thing by the time she picked her head up. I gave it a kiss and told her not to worry about it and that her finger was going to be fine and that was the last we heard about it for a few hours.
Later the subject of swearing with your finger came up again. That was when my suspicions were confirmed. The kids might learn things like reading and math facts at school, but the real learning happens on the bus on the way home. Jane relayed the story of the boy on the bus telling her all about how to swear with her finger then looked at me with a grin and said,
“Mom, wanna see me swear with my face?”
Middle schooler in a mom’s body showed right back up. “Well, Yeah!”
“Just kidding Mom,” Jane said with a laugh, “You can’t swear with your face.”
Both of Jane’s sisters were at at birthday party so she and I were going to have a special night of our own. We had rented a movie, popped some corn and were all settled in. But the DVD had some serious scratching issues. After the third round of hopefully waiting for it to unfreeze and giving up and taking it out and putting it back in and finding our place and skipping ahead just a smidgen, it froze – again. Which is what prompted my little girl to stomp out of the room while exclaiming:
And I, (with the certain knowledge that such unbecoming language came from either John or myself and that if we aren’t more careful our children are only going to be fit company for drunks in backwoods bars, which they aren’t near old enough for yet) thought:
At least that time it was only a thought.
Despite all our issues we did eventually finish the movie and have a very nice night together.
I try to watch my language in front of the kids, and I’m getting better at avoiding most of those taboo words… except for sometimes. Sometimes things slip out that shouldn’t and while Ivy never was much interested in any of the slip-ups Clara has an uncanny ear for them. While this is, of course, never good I do maintain that there are situations in which those words are, if not appropriate, at least capable of giving some measure of relief and satisfaction to a bad situation.
For instance lets say you were working out, and that the baby was happily bouncing away her in doorway, bouncer, thingy for the entire time. When you finish up and go to release her from her jumpy prison you are all smiles because you are so happy that she was so happy while you actually got a chance to do something for your self and then you see it – The Accident. The Accident that came running down both legs and puddled on the floor.
Nope, that just doesn’t cut it for me in a situation like that. Nor does “Darn!” really convey the complete feeling of dismay that is appropriate when the discovery is made that at least part of the reason she was such a content baby was that she was learning how to finger paint – with the portion of The Accident that came up her back. And when you discover that the rest of the reason she was so happy was because of the fun she was having squishing and smearing of mess between her toes…
Well other words just might come out – hypothetically of course.
And hypothetically if an older child is near by you might just hear, “What is shit Mom? What is shit?”