As my toddler, Max, looks up at me with his bright blue eyes, he innocently asks, “You made me a turkey sandwich again? What the heck?” My heart sinks. “No, sweetheart, that’s not an appropriate word for you to use.” I find myself in yet another round of explaining why certain expressions aren’t suitable for a 3-year-old. Yes, he picked it up from his dad. Yes, I know that adults sometimes use strong language. And yes, my partner and I could certainly work on our own word choices.
This has become an exhausting cycle. I never pictured myself as one of those parents who scold others for their language in front of children. Yet here I am, a doctor, carefully monitoring my speech as I fear Max might repeat the expletive I used when I dropped a jar of spaghetti sauce on my foot.
And let’s not even talk about the time he called me a “silly head.” I quickly learned that such seemingly harmless terms can escalate to something a lot more concerning, like “idiot” or worse. It makes me want to dive into a thesaurus and pull out some Shakespearean insults for my own sanity. I’d gladly take “thou art a knave” over “what the hell” any day.
Every car ride turns into a mini quiz. “Is ‘dang’ a bad word? How about ‘shucks’? What if I say ‘dang shucks’?” I wonder if he gets bonus points for creativity.
The philosophical discussion grows murky. As a writer, I believe words are simply tools for expression, not inherently good or bad. Many legendary authors, like Mark Twain and Virginia Woolf, embraced rich vocabularies. Censoring my son feels wrong, yet there’s societal pressure to maintain decorum. Each time Max utters a curse in public, it’s like he’s waving a flag that says, “My mommy is a reckless parent—please call child services!”
Certain phrases complicate matters even further. “Is ‘Oh my God’ a bad word?” he asks, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion. My own uncertainty amplifies his confusion. In our mixed-faith household, we don’t emphasize religion, and I can’t help but wonder how to explain these concepts to him. “No, it’s just not something you say casually,” I reply, unsure of my own logic. “But you and Daddy say it all the time!” he counters, and I find myself stumbling over my words once again.
Where do we draw the line? Is it offensive when I say “gosh darn it”? Will the universe conspire against me if my husband exclaims “goodness gracious!”? The hypocrisy of adult language is a difficult lesson for a child to grasp.
Despite the confusion, I strive to guide Max toward using polite language, even if my rationale is inconsistent and some adults in his life have no qualms about cursing. I encourage him to choose “nice words,” be mindful of his manners, and always uphold the Golden Rule. And if he slips up, I sincerely apologize for any potential offense.
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In summary, managing a toddler’s vocabulary can be both challenging and humorous. With a delicate balance of guiding them toward respectful language while navigating our own habits, we can help shape their understanding of appropriate expressions in various contexts.