I’M going to have to stop cursing. At least out loud.
I know, it’s a fucking pain in the hoop, but I’m living with a little parrot these days so I can’t afford to be caught out.
The Beast is repeating EVERYTHING he hears, soaking up words and phrases like a sponge and spitting them back out with aplomb.
It’s adorable when he repeats ‘Love you Seán’ to me or ‘Careful pet’ when he hears his Nana cautioning him not to run headlong into the door.
Or when he’s cuddled next to me reading his favourite book and repeating the words from memory. That’s pretty fun too.
However, I doubt him exclaiming ‘Fucking thundercunts’ out loud in Tesco would go down too well with the general public. Or his father.
He’s already learned ‘ah shite’ from me (where are you going with that Mother of the Year Award?) and I’d like that to be the only bad word he ever learns, if I can
It’s not going to be easy. I love cursing. No, really, I do. It comes really naturally to me and I adore finding a new curse word (see ‘thundercunts’ above) and using it to punctuate my sentences.
A couple of years ago, before I was even a mother, I tried to give up cursing for Lent. It seemed to be such a simple thing to do, but I lasted about four days before I was at it again. It proved almost impossible.
It might have something to do with growing up around my Da, who found it almost offensive to go more than about five sentences before throwing in an oul bollix or two.
Or it could be to do with being Irish – as a nation we’re fairly prolific when it comes to swearing, it’s almost a national pastime.
Or maybe I’m just a vulgar bitch. (It’s probably mainly that last one actually.)
Whatever it is, it’ll have to stop. Adults can choose to swear or not swear, but children are generally only repeating what they hear and I don’t think it’s fair to teach them a word and then not allow them to use it or chastise them for using it. So I’m going to have to bite the bullet and watch my tongue.
I guess, as much as I love cursing – and I fucking love cursing – I don’t want my beautiful, innocent, gentle, blue eyed boy to follow in my footsteps in this regard. I love him more.
Fuck it anyway.
It seems I’m going to have to actually actively parent him. So far we’ve gotten away with simply ‘keeping him alive’ but now that he’s getting older it looks like I’m going to have to put in a bit more effort.
So good bye all you geebags and bitches. Farewell bastards and bollixes and arses and cunts. It was nice knowing you, you fucking dickhead assholes.
From now on it’s going to be like a Disney movie in my house, clean and serene, calm and measured. The cursing stops here.
And ain’t that a mother fucker?