It was a lovely outdoor dinner. Burgers, hot dogs and beer after a long hard day working in the yard. In the middle of it all, Maya asked “Mom, do you say that fucking fly landed on dad?” Despite the fact that I was studying my meal intently, I felt the laser beam glare from my wife almost knock me from my chair. Seems casual swearing is my area of parental supervision.
“Maya, you shouldn’t talk like that” I responded.
“But, is it right to say… that fucking fly landed on dad or do I say that fly landed on fucking daddy?” she queried.
“You shouldn’t be saying that at all. But since you asked, if it’s the fly that’s bothering you then the fucking fly is correct grammar.” I instructed, “if it was me that was bothering you, then it would be the fly landed on fucking daddy.”
You can’t leave kids in ignorance. Can you?
This is my 100th post.