There’s something that you should know about me going into this, and it’s that in my daily life I use an extraordinary amount of profanity.
I mean… a lot.
To my credit, I do know when to avoid the usage of profanity so as not to lose my job, house, winning smile, civil liberties, etc… but up until recently I hadn’t really given much thought to not using profanity around Small Boy. My logic was thus: Small Boy doesn’t yet understand my words, therefore my words don’t matter to Small Boy. Seems logical, right? While that may or may not have been true initially, I’ve got the feeling that it’s rapidly becoming a moot point. The boy seems to notice everything around him. He wants to know so much already… like why daddy’s bottom lip won’t come off, despite his continued attempts to relocate it. He’s just naturally curious. For example, the first time we put him into a swing complete with little dangling animal things for him to play with, he ignored them entirely and chose instead to watch the hinges.
According to legend (read: parenting books), even if Small Boy isn’t quite sure what daddy’s saying, he’s already ingesting it. He’s incorporating it into the mixture of bits and bobs that he picks up with that incredible little brain of his, and he’s using it all to start turning into the person that he’s going to be. In four short months he’s already developed so much personality that it blows my mind. That growth led me to a realization. There’s a heavy weight placed on fathers that’s also our most tremendous gift… we are what our sons look up to and what our daughters look for. We have to be examples for them. I don’t take that lightly, and I’m striving to be the most virtuous example of a man I can be. To me, that means no more profanity around Small Boy. He’s going to grow up fast enough as it is.
Hell, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t explain to him what some of those words mean without using them in the definition, anyway.
- F-Bombs are for Yankees (real-southern.com)