We were in the US for a two-week getaway last month (and it was magnificent). Since then I've been slightly horrified but mostly amused to note my children's adoption of the North American female vocal fry (I may have let them watch too much TV...I had to work).
DISCLAIMER: I definitely do this sometimes; I disagree with video lady that it's "obnoxious"; I also don't want to hurl turds at vocal fryers. I just think it's a kinda dumb-sounding voice habit.
My three year old, the Nugget, frequently drops some Valley Girl cadence and fry these days. Like last week, when she popped up beside me one afternoon: "Did you, like, maybe, like, forwget, Mommy? I did bwing my stuffed penguin home fwom kindergarten," she says, hand on hip, finger up. "Sewiously Mommy. Bewieve me. I definitewy, like, baa-wang it."
She ba-WANG it, y'all.
"Well, I do believe that you seRiously bROUGHT it home, because you're holding it," I say.
Big sister manifests, jumps into the fray. "No, that one's MINE. She LOST hers."
Nugget, clutching fluffy pink toy to chest: "I didn't lost it sewiously. I bwang it home and this is my-HINE," she said.
"No-HO...that penguin is my-hine," replies the Noodle.
The Nuggets wails. "Nooo!"
The Noodle continues. "BUT Nugget's must also be at home because I'm going to tell you why, mommy," says Noodle, busting out her countin' fingers:"FIRST, Nugget brought her penguin to kindergarten. SECOND, she did really because I saw her. THIRD, she carried it in her hands remember? FOURTH, she did bring it home ask daddy but, FIVE, she left it somewhere because this one is mine because I put mine on my bed and this is that one, and SIX, I'm not lying. SEVEN, really. Make her go find her OWN penguin."
Seven righteous fingers are held before my eyes. The Noodle exudes the cool neutrality and calm confidence of one who knows they've just dropped a vicious logic bomb.
The Nugget folds. She has no case. She collapses into tears. Still arguing, though: "This is my pengwin, I hate you, you're mean, etc."
"That means yours is at home, Nugget," says the Noodle. "It's probably in the other room. Just go get it."
Me: "What other room? Y'all didn't even go look in the other room? We only have three actual rooms!"
Nugget stops crying. She delicately lifts the hem of her T-shirt to dab her tears. And then she turns on me, outraged, because why not: "Mommy! Dat's what I said alweady! I told you I was SEWIOUS, mommy! I DID BWANG IT HOME AND YOU DIDN'T BELIEVE ME."
"But...I did believe you," I say. "Enough. Go find your penguin. I'm busy."
"BE SEWIOUS MOMMY! YOU have to find it!" she says.
"Actually, I don't have to find it," I counter.
Noodle, with impeccable logic: "Yah, you don't have to. But it's the fastest. And you have a lot to do."
Nugget beams at her sister. "Good job Noodle. Sewiously, mommy. It's fastest."
After weighing my options for a moment, I sighed resignedly and got up to help find it. Our apartment is the size of a three-winged shoe box. Nonetheless, finding it took an age. This is because it was wedged in deep under a dresser.
"Ohhh. I fowgot I put it there," Nugget said, slapping her forehead. "Siwwy me. Thank you mommy. I love you mommy. Want a hug? I hope we eat a lot of vegetables for dinner."
I returned to whatever it is adults do all the time. About 5 seconds later, they were arguing again.
"Mommy, the Nugget called me a Pfau," says the big Noodle.
"She called you a peacock?" (Pfau means peacock in German*.)
"No, just a Pfau. It's a made-up word. She just, like, makes up words to call me. But...EYE know what it actually means."
The child's mouth is serious, head tilted, eyes wide. Five year olds are such tattle tales.
"Tell me," I say. She's gonna say "stupid" and I know it.
"...I think she means FUCKER."
"WHOAH THERE COWBOY. WHAT??"
"Fucker. I know. It's a REALLY bad word," she said, shaking her sanctimonious little head.
And then I found myself in this long and fraught conversation. It was only fraught for me, of course. I'm trying to argue from my high horse, but in fact I'm on foot, possibly ankle-deep in the mud, to be honest. Hypocrisy is so terribly trying. Everyone knows I talk saltier than Black Beard on the high seas.
Sure, there is a perspective that says that five year olds probably shouldn't know the F-word (they all do) and that I could set a good example and never swear. There's also a perspective that says "ladies" don't swear, but since I have a job and drink beer and generally try not to let the having of ovaries hold me back etc., Ima cuss like a 3D whole adult person, too. There are situations that demand certain expletives. The word "fuck" has been in the English language since at least the 15th century. It's clearly handy.
Cuss words denote sincerity of negative feeling, and most standard swear words are a totally normal way to violate norms in the culture. At least where I live and work. If I was raising my kids somewhere else, I'd probably have a different perspective--but I'm raising them in my culture.
I do have total taboos: For example, if I were ever to hear my kids use the c-word or a single racist, homophobic, or anti-religious-person slur, for instance, I would not find it funny. For me, those words have no place in the mouths of people who strive for peace, know their history, wish for equality, and believe that none of us can be free until all of us are free. I would go into conniptions. There would be long lectures, dreary documentaries and possibly even PowerPoint slides about "othering" as a political tool that the powerful use as a tourniquet to stanch their loss of privilege. That leg is turning green and has got to go, though. Quizzes. Essays. I would bore myself. They would rue the day, y'all. My point is, I get that the taboo-ness of language is relative to environment.
So from now on, I'm teaching my child this whole other nother perspective. It's not available on standard-issue mom blogs, so gird your loins.
I have smoothly decided that I've always believed (see what I did there) that we should teach that there is a time, place and target audience for high-impact cuss words, and it is good and right for children to learn what that those are.
Behold my screed:
Bad words can sometimes be okay if used appropriately. They are not okay if used in a reflexive, uncontrolled way--that's like not being able to control your desire to punch someone. It's a sign of weakness. A good example of the unacceptable use of swear words is when mommy drops something and whispers sh**. She really shouldn't do that in front of her children. She sees that now. It is suddenly clear.
PERMISSIBLE: You may scream these words into your pillow at your leisure, if it helps (in our home the rule is that being super angry is fine, but hitting or yelling hateful things or tantruming is not; our kids are supposed to go holler and beat up pillows in the privacy of their room).
NOT PERMISSIBLE: It is never okay to use bad words as insults. Also never in kindergarten, school, church, or anyone's office; if you are under the age of 12, also not when you are around adults and especially not when you're in Texas, around your grandparents or any of mommy and daddy's important-looking professional acquantainces (okay, that last bit needs work).
IF YOU HAVE QUESTIONS, come ask me. Very, very quietly.
IF MOMMY uses bad words in violation of any of the rules above, you are free to call her out.
Boom: a parenting philosophy is born....I mean, what could go wrong. Right?
Right?
...
* You'd have deduced that on your own, I trust. But just in case.
