I knew when we bought the Evil Spawn there would be some new responsibilities as parents (I like to think of her as an investment in my future… which means free-housing when I’m old and senile… or older and more senile).
I anticipated doing things I wouldn’t necessarily love.
Like watching soccer games.
Keeping the Santa thing quiet.
Attending school open houses and feeling awkward (me, not her).
Arguments about not buying her a cell phone until she can vote.
Paying for college (college… from my mouth to God’s ears!!!).
Listening to her bedroom door slam for no apparent reason.
Listening to her and her loser friends sing every generic Top 40 song that comes on the car radio (how do they remember all the words???).
Wondering why she can’t tell the difference between a dresser drawer and the floor of her bedroom (one has handles and one is made of carpet… it’s not that hard).
The usual parent-kid stuff.
What I didn’t anticipate was the child to which I gave birth (yes, it wasn’t all her mother) would become the official Judge and Jury on my language.
This is an issue in which the Evil Spawn and I just don’t see eye to eye.
I blame her babysitter for steering her down the path of righteousness (when the spawn was 4 she was told stupid and crap were bad words… which I think is a bunch of Stupid Crap).
Don’t get me wrong, my language isn’t terrible.
It’s also not good.
Every once in awhile I need a word that is a bit stronger than my day-to-day selection (it’s a free country after all… except in the school hallway).
I really only curse at two things. Myself and machines.
And in my defense, I usually do it under my breath (at least in my head it’s under my breath).
How am I supposed to go through life doing stupid stuff without cursing?
Occasionally a man stubs his toe, drops a plate, or misses a 2 foot putt to lose $20 dollars on the golf course (most if not all of these have happened in the last 48 hours… as far as you know).
I don’t think cursing at myself can be held against me.
The only other time I curse is when machines don’t work. A mower, bicycle, laptop, iPad, toilet, and my car have all got a good tongue lashing in the last few weeks.
If I don’t put my machines in their places, how will they know I’m in charge?
There has to be a pecking order or else we are looking at mayhem.
But the Evil Spawn is having none of this.
She has a strict No Cursing Policy in what used to be my house (now it’s hers… and Buddy’s).
Every time I say something she considers inappropriate (see: stupid, crap, butt, or anything that has a question mark or asterisk in it…), she stands in front of me with her mouth dropped to the floor (just like the clothes/towels in her room) and points at me like I just drop kicked a kitten.
I feel horrible.
Not because she’s disappointed in me.
Because I can’t enjoy a good curse word (or paragraph).
Before I reproduced, I wish someone would have told me about the “No Cursing Rule”.
Evidently, when you bring a child into your home, you have to abide by their rules.
The whole concept makes me so !@#$%* mad!