One of the hardest adjustments for…let’s say certain people upon entering parenthood is the constant self-monitoring for swear words. Obviously, we don’t want to promote the sort of language that delights adults but will get small kids kicked out of school around children. Well, on a personal level, all I really have to say is it’s a miracle Miles doesn’t have a bar of soap permanently inserted in his mouth.* Between me and his mother, he’s heard every swear under Heaven, and as recently as five minutes ago.
Take this morning for instance:
Yes, I had a…few choice words to utter upon hitting this stand-still traffic this morning. BUT, in my defense, this is what was happening on Spotify simultaneously:
Anyway, while I did apologize to Miles for my outburst, I still quietly beam at the fact that he knows better than to throw those less-desirable four-letter words he overhears around.
*FUN FACT: The only time we’ve gotten a call from daycare about language, Miles had called one of his classmates a “punk.” Let’s pray that’s the worst we have to deal with.