Daughter 2 had an interesting little boy in her class this year. This particular little boy, for whatever reason seemed to really attract her attention and, while I was not thrilled that she was so enthralled with him, he seemed harmless enough. (By the way, this will be The Daughter's biggest complaint as I move to a middle school classroom this fall: I'll know way too much!)
One evening, as Daughter 2 and I were driving home from the ball fields, she told me
that G had had a really rough day. "He told a friend of mine to shut the #^@& up."
Now, I've been teaching for almost 20 years and have taught some of the rawest kids our town has to offer, so the language business doesn't bother me so much. But to hear #^@& come out of my first grader's mouth? WOW! I did want to hear the rest of the G story, though, so I kept my cool and asked her why she thought he would say that.
"I already told you mom. He had a rough day," she patiently explained to her dense momma.
"And why was his day so rough that he had to use such language?" I asked in my most non-threatening voice.
"Well," she sighed as if she were telling her own young child to go to bed for the thirtieth time, "At first we thought that his aunt's sister had died."
"His aunt's sister?" I pried, as I was trying to do the genealogy in my head.
"Yes. That's what we thought at first. But," she paused to catch her exasperated breath, "It turns out that poor G's ancestors have died."
"His ancestors?" I questioned.
With a big sigh escaping from her twisted little mouth she explained, "Yes, Momma. G's ancestor's have died, so he was having a bad day. So, I really don't think it was totally bad of him to say #^@& because, ya know, his ancestors are dead."
Ever wanting to teach my child a lesson and instill values and morals for a lifetime yet to come, I said to her, "Honestly, though, that's not a reason to say that word. Everyone has dead ancestors. Basically, being dead is what makes them an ancestor."
"Do I have ancestors?" she asked.
"Of course. Everyone has ancestors," I explained, thinking that she'd understand that this was no excuse for G's potty mouth.
There was silence. Even her breath stopped. Then Daughter 2 slowly turned her head to face me. "Momma," she whispered, "Are you telling me that I have dead ancestors?"
"Yes, honey," I explained, "Anyone that is related to you and is older than you is your ancestor."
Daughter 2 sucked in her breath and threw up her hands, "What the heck, Momma!! Why didn't anyone ever tell me that I had ancestors and that they were dead? Is this some kind of family secret? Wait... No wonder G had such a rough day. I'll bet his momma didn't tell him about that either!" And with that she folded her arms over her angry, heaving chest. I just knew that the next word out of her little pristine mouth would be #^@&.
After a bit, however, she uncrossed her arms and settled herself down.
"This is good to know," she explained, "And don't worry: Just because my ancestors are dead doesn't mean that I'll try to say #^@&. Anymore."
