Salty Junior - or Molly for short

We make a pretty concerted effort to not swear in front of our kids. The inevitable “shit”, or “damn”, may sneak out – but we try to keep a pretty tight lock down on the f-bombs and other more colourful phrases.

So, in light of my kids – particularly Molly’s - language, I am starting to believe salty language may be a genetically inherited trait. Max got my reddish hair and pale complexion, and Molly got my vocabulary.

Molly has always had really good language skills. She was saying three to four word sentences by just over a year, and full sentences by two. She already has a pretty impressive vocabulary and is using inflection and pacing in her story telling.

She could also out cuss most long-haul truckers and make a seasoned logger blush.

I don’t encourage it, I try to reprimand where possible, and I try really hard to not react as once she sees that something gets a rise out of me, that will be her new favourite word or phrase. But some of the stuff she says, I can’t help but laugh. 

When Molly was just over two, I was driving with her and Max in the van and they were watching a Baby Einstein video. The video showed the growth of all kinds of animals from newborn to full grown. Max was happily babbling about something when Molly shouted excitedly “Jesus Christ! Look at the size of that puppy!” There was a slight pause, and then she added in a slightly disbelieving, almost muttered tone “This is bullshit.”

That story is quickly becoming legend in our family. My dad told the story to some of his coworkers, and before he knew it, the whole job site was saying “Jesus Christ! This is bullshit.”

We have been extra vigilant on the language since then, but she still managed to pick up a few phrases. One time, not long after the JC bomb in the van, she tripped and hit her head on the cedar chest we use for a coffee table upstairs. She stood up and loudly let me know that “Shit snacks! I just hit my head!”

Then, it seemed that our vigilance started to pay off. Aside from a few minor slips, it became pretty quiet swear wise on the home front. She occasionally still says “shit” – but since she uses it correctly I just don’t have the heart to correct her. (She will - and only occasionally - quietly mutter “shit” when she drops something, or stubs a toe. I totally agree – it is a pain in the ass when you drop something – and stubbing your toe sucks!) And there is this kid we know who can be a bit of a shit, so when Molly told me in a very matter-of-fact way a few weeks ago that the kid was an asshole, I didn’t correct her then either. If you are an asshole, you are an asshole. How do you argue that? She calls ‘em like she sees ‘em. 

But, I think maybe we have all gotten a little light and loose with the language lately and it might be time to clamp down again. This morning, after I got Max and Molly dressed and finished their hair, Molly caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror and loudly proclaimed “Son of a bitch I am cute!”

Again – she is pretty damn cute, so technically she is right, and she had the inflection nailed! I was busy muffling my laughter into my shoulder so I didn’t say much, and I also didn’t want her to run around daycare all day screaming that phrase at the top of her lungs.

I have no idea why I find it so funny when she swears. Maybe because she looks like a perfectly sweet little angel baby - so it is just so totally unexpected. Or maybe it is the fact she swears like a pro in this teeny tiny little voice.  

Either way – the girl has skills. And I am apologizing now to everyone we know as I am pretty sure when you child drops the JC bomb, or tells you that he or she is sweating like a hooker in church, Molly was somehow behind it.

Now picture this little, adorable, innocent,
angelic face dropping the f-bomb!