I knew it was bound to happen. My four-year old uttered the dreaded four-letter word. I was driving with our windows rolled down on a rare hot day in the Bay Area. A bicyclist was riding in the bike lane along the side of my car and as I passed him, another cyclist sped right through the tiny space in between him and my car. The first biker yelled “F*@# YOU!” to the speeding cyclist, rightfully so. It just happened that this exchange occurred right next to my son’s open window. Then my son asks, “Mommy, why did that guy say f*@#?” I thought to myself, Oh F*@#! Of all the ways for my kid to learn that word. I knew it would happen eventually, but not from such a random occurrence. I tried to play it off and nonchalantly answered my son, “That guy was upset. It’s not a nice word and he shouldn’t have said it.” I didn’t want to make a big deal about it because if I stressed how BAD it was and drilled it into my son to NEVER say that word, he’d probably walk around everywhere saying F*@#, F*@#, F*@#, F*@#, F*@#.
-Catherine Lo
poche de maman 