The big red fuck

This post was written by Friday blogger Annie Reid.

We had delightful visit from the godson and his parents last weekend. With the five of us here in the urban shoebox, it’s a bit like camping, but inside. Godson is just at the age where toddlers begin acquiring language, and although this will be old news for you parents, we sure had to be careful with words and phrases like “cocksucker” and “bloody asshole” all weekend. He’s like a goddamned mynah bird.

Recently his mother was driving in a traffic jam and was cut off by another driver. She shouted out the customary and seemingly obligatory expletive. Little boys seem to have some sort of instinctual genetic attraction to trucks, and Godson is no exception. His ears perked right up. The word mom had just used sounded so…familiar, so definitive, so much more exciting than what he normally used.

Unfortunately, the result of the traffic jam incident was that each sighting of a concrete or dump truck is now met with the joyous cry of “Fuck!” from the carseat. This promises to go on for quite some time, as it gets quite a reaction at the Gymboree.

Is this the beginning of storytelling?


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