I make a concerted effort not to swear around my children. Well, actually I have made a concerted effort not to swear around my children since they were old enough to repeat what I say. It’s been difficult, however, to curtail when there is a fair amount of swearing done in my office and sometimes swear words are just the perfect expression you need in a situation.
I often slip when I am tired or distracted. My daughter excels at catching my slips and whenever she does, I explain, "I know . . . Mama said a not nice word. Sometimes mamas need to say those words. But those words are not for you to say, okay?" She agrees and, so far, I haven’t heard her say any of my not nice words. Now, when she catches me, she says, "You say that?" meaning, "You can say that and I can’t, Mama?" Pretty soon, however, she is going to forget that I have told her not to say certain words and say something really inappropriate in front of someone. So, I have been trying extra hard not to swear.
Well, last night didn’t help things much. At 2:30 this morning, she started screaming, "MAMA! MAMA!!" The scream was so sudden and high pitched that I thought she had lost a limb or was bleeding from the head or something. When I arrived in her room, she was in her bed, apparently fine and all in one piece . . . still screaming. I said, not so nicely, "WHAT?!? What is your problem?" (I’m not the most nurturing person at 2:30 in the morning.)
"I got boogers."
"Jesus Christ! Can’t you wipe them on your sheets like every other normal child?"
She responded with, "No . . . you say that?"
I groaned and went and got her a box of Kleenex. I tucked her in and kissed her good night again. Then I went to my room and went back to sleep. I was exhausted. I hadn’t gone to sleep until past midnight and I thought I would be able to get at least another four hours of sleep.
Wrong.
At 6 am, I become barely conscious of a thumping noise and a weight on the end of the bed. Glancing at the clock, I assumed it is the dog wagging her tail while sleeping on my bed. I whispered, "Knock it off, dog," and closed my eyes. After a short silence, the thumping started again. I mean-whispered, "STOP it, dog." Another silence and then . . . thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. In my regular mean-mommy voice, I said "STOP. IT. RIGHT. NOW."
A longer silence followed, which allowed me to close my eyes and almost get back to sleep. But then it started again . . . thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. Before I turned over and sat up in bed, I said:
"GOD DAMN IT, dog, KNOCK THAT SHIT OFF!!"
Then I turned over and sat up. There, sitting on the end of my bed was my daughter. Predictably, she said, "You say that?" Groan. My head hit the pillow again and I asked her, "What are you doing?"
"Patting my baby and reading my book."
I looked up at her again and saw she had her baby doll face down on the bed and covered with a blanket. She was patting that baby’s back within an inch of its life. On her lap, she was holding a book open with her other hand. I noticed she did not have a picture book, rather she was holding a medium sized adult paperback. "What are you reading?" I asked her.
"This book," she said, holding it up.
She was "reading" A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf.
It’s really hard to be mad at her for that.
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2 comments:
Oh my goodness! Could she be any sweeter?!? And you are right...you can't be mad at that sweet little baby!
I am the very same way at night. An awful grumpy bear when awoken.
(Oh, and when my daughter was around her age she would say "bad baby!" and spank her doll. Despite the fact that we didn't spank-or call her bad, for that matter-it was a mystery where she learned it, and quite embarrassing when she did it!)
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