What did you just say?

As a parent, I often find myself in situations where I'm not completely sure how I should respond. The first example of this was an incident that occurred soon after the birth of my oldest daughter known as The Diaper That Should Not Be. Without going into great detail, I was undecided whether I should call the doctor or call the Guinness Book of World Records because, whatever it was, it was impressive. When I finally discovered that The Diaper That Should Not Be was in fact just a normal diaper, which was both relieving and a bit of a let down. After all, every parent wants to believe that their child is exceptional.

As your child gets older, more of these situations crop up and knowing which parenting technique to deploy becomes even more difficult to discern. Knowing when to coddle, when to scold, when to intervene, and when to teach is never as simple as the parenting books make it out to be.

Take a recent example with my three-year-old daughter. My wife and I were sitting in the living room watching television while our youngest daughter lay in the floor coloring. She had a pad of paper and was drawing portraits of everyone in the family, stopping occasionally to hold up her paper and pointing out her latest edition. As she was coloring she made a mistake, after which I heard my daughter sigh in irritation and utter something under her breath.

"Aw, dammit," she said.

It took a few seconds for it to sink in. When it finally did, my wife and I slowly turned toward each other and shared a glance, both saying the same thing to the other with our eyes: did she just say what I think she said?

"What did you just say?" I asked my daughter, still hard at work on her pictures.

"Aw, dammit," she repeated with the same amount of irritation in her voice as before.

I realize she didn't completely understand what she was saying. She was obviously just repeating something she had heard, probably from her mother (not that I'm pointing fingers). But as her parent, it's my job to correct the behavior and perhaps try to use this as a teaching moment. A proper parenting response would go as follows: "Child, there are certain words in the lexicon of the English language that are deemed improper for use by children or by adults in the presence of polite company. That word you just used is one such word that is not to be said. I realize you were just mimicking your mother (still not judging), but it's important to never say that word again."

That's what I should've said. But as confusing as this might sound, my ability to respond swiftly to the situation was corrupted by an odd sense of parental pride. I realize swear words are unacceptable and shouldn't be part of a three year olds vocabulary, but she used it in perfect context. It was a demonstration of language aptitude. I shouldn’t admonish her, I should praise her. How many other parents can boast that their three-year-old can swear at a 7th grade level?

While my internal monologue debated how to respond to this situation, my daughter picked up on the one obvious reaction I had to her swearing: amusement. While forming our reaction the wife and I did share a chuckle over her verbal faux pas. As soon as my daughter figured out why we were laughing she treated us with the “Aw dammit” remix. It took us a few minutes to compose ourselves, but we finally got around to the parenting lesson on why that word was off limits. She responded to the lesson positively and stopped using the word, spending the next half hour making up words that sounded similar (i.e. dannit) just to test the limits.

Although she hasn’t used the word since that night, I doubt this will be the last time we’ll have to address the swearing issue with her. Since she’s already mastered her new word when used as an exclamatory swear, it won’t be long until she learns of its adjectival and verbal applications, again probably from her mother (I’m not saying it’s all my wife’s fault; technically I’m typing it). And there’s always the looming possibility of her picking up a new word from television, movies or radio. But my biggest concern lies not with the television or my wife’s sailor tongue.

I’m most concerned about what she’ll learn from Sara, one of the family pets and the smallest member of our household. She’s a Shih Tzu.