When I was small, my mother tells me, I was coloring in a high chair, and dropped my crayon. She says I dropped a phrase that rhymes with "cram it" and cheerfully continued coloring. When asked where I learned that word, I told her "Daddy!"
Playing Wii with Uncle Bubba this weekend, Stinky dropped a few choice words. After regaining my composure (I confess that find swearing children SO amusing, because you know for most swearing children, there are two mortified parents. Yes, I was simultaneously mortified and amused), we had a talk, and he's only slipped up once since. Unfortunately, I know that the blame is as likely to fall on me as it is on anyone else. So, I find myself much more aware of the language I use around him*.
Now, my conversations with other adults have definitely changed, and it's probably for the better, even if they do sound a little silly. Here are a few examples from the weekend, when a dear friend told me about some hurt she'd experienced:
"Seriously? That makes me so mad, I want to put a curled up hand through the front of his cranium."
"Don't worry about it. I've accepted that it wasn't my problem that he's a word that sounds like mustard."
I'm starting to sound like I'm playing a game of Taboo when I'm frustrated. Of course, I should be better at censoring myself than even that, but I'll get there. Hopefully, it will be before kindergarten.
*WBH also takes his share of the blame after playing many hours of Epic Mickey while he was sick. It's a 50/50 thing.