So Focked Up

As a recent graduate of first grade, my daughter takes pride in practicing her “best guess” spelling skills. I love to watch and listen to her sound out new words.

“Is this how you spell “Sophia?” she asks.

I peek over her shoulder at the story she’s working on and see “ S-O-F-E-A” printed crookedly across the page.

“No, but that’s really close,” I answer. “Good job!”

I always try to temper my corrections with a dose of motherly praise.

But I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to her latest foray into the world of phonetics.

“F-O-C-K!” she screamed the other day after smacking her knee against the coffee table. “I hate this FOCKING table!!! FOCK!”

Out of habit, I almost correct her. I stop myself and try to keep a straight face as I launch into a hypocritical spiel about inappropriate language.

“I know that must have really hurt,” I say, as she scowls at me through her tears. “But it’s not okay to use that kind of language.”

Unless your name is Dada, I think to myself. Which of course is the real problem—my little girl’s not only becoming adept at sou

nding out words, like most young children she’s also a natural mimic who repeats everything she hears. Around our house that includes a few too many F-bombs.

While I consider my husband the culprit for most of the foul language stinking up our home, I too—on very rare occasions—have been guilty of launching into some colorful expletives.

So I guess it’s time to finally heed the advice of friends who have curbed their cursing with tactics like fining the potty mouths in their families. Because no matter how you spell them, bad words are never pretty. Especially when those old enough to know better have a bad habit of using them.