Warning: If cursing offends you, don’t read this post.
I swear. I swear early and often. I try to curb my potty mouth around the kids. Really I do. But it leaks out. Twenty some years of cursing is hard to keep tucked behind the varnish of mom-ness.
The baby now has a vocabulary of about a dozen words, and babbles all the time. Rainbow, wanting to get in on the act, has started using a lot of made up words. Klem, Dono, Vactu. She assigns meanings to them, that change randomly, and then works on getting her sister to repeat them. I often find myself saying, “Use real words please.” Or, “If you’re going to help your sister learn how to talk, could you teach her a real word? How about Dog? That’s a good one.”
The other day we had just finished tidying up the baby’s bedroom in anticipation of naptime. We finished filling the toychest, closed the lid, and gave “baby bear” the honour of sitting on top of it.
Me: What’s this bear’s name?
Rainbow: Tickle Feet?
Me: Tickle Feet? That’s a great name for a bear.
Her: No, it’s Tickle Flet
Me: Tickle Flet?
Her: No Mom, Tickle Fl-et!
I proceeded to change the baby’s diaper and get her ready for bed as G-Girl came up with one silly name after another.
Me: Tickle Flut?
Her: You’re not pronouncing it right mom!
Me: Tickle Flet?
Her: NO! It’s Tickle Flee!
By this point we were both giggling, as she continued to chastise me on my poor pronunciation on one silly word after another until she arrived at….
Rainbow: Wait, I know. His name shall be… Tickle Fuck!
Let’s pretend I didn’t hear that.
Me: Oh, Tickle Fleck?
Her: No, mom, I said Tickle FUCK. His name is TICKLE FUCK.
Don’t laugh. Must not laugh. Must keep a straight face…
Me: I don’t think that’s a very good name for a bear. How about Tickle Feet? I like Tickle Feet.
Her: No, I’m pretty sure his name is Tickle Fuck.
Oh crap, I’m giggling. Straight face. Straight face.
Her: Can you say it Rocket? Tic-kel Fuu-ck.
The baby echoes back something that sounds like “Gigel Fug”
I turn and look at the closet door for a moment, clear my throat and assume my best stern mom voice.
Me: No G. That’s not a nice word. Fuck is not a nice word. Let’s not teach Rocket to say that.
Her: But it’s a real word mom. It is. I’ve heard Dad say it.
Yeah you’ve probably heard Mom say it too, but thanks for letting that one slide kid. Sigh.
For the record, I did go on to explain that words like that are only for grown ups to use. Today, just for curiosities sake I asked, “Does this Bear have name?” “Oh, that’s Dono.” she replied. So thankfully the moniker didn’t stick. To me, Tickle Fuck the Bear? Totally unforgettable. To her it was just one moment in a day full of silly events. Phew.