Bad Words

Yesterday we were on our way to school in the car, it’s about 7:30am, and Carter says from the back seat, “Mama, is F@#K a bad word?”

Um.  Yeah.

So I said, “Well, it’s not a nice word, so we don’t say it in conversation.”

“What does it mean?”

Well, I didn’t go THERE.  But I said people use it all kinds of different ways; as a verb, a noun, an adjective… you have to admit, you can't beat it for versatility.  Personally I say it quite a bit, usually in my head, occasionally alone in the car, but not within earshot of the kids.  I find it very satisfying and at times, the only word that fits the situation perfectly.

“Well, is sith a bad word?  Siht?  Something with an S.”

“S@#T?”

“Yes, that one.”

“That’s not a very nice word either, so we don’t use it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s rude.  Remember how I told you that holding up your middle finger means that you’re telling someone they’re useless, they’re lower than dirt, and that’s why we don’t do it?  Using those words make people feel like that too sometimes.  So we don’t use them.  You’ll probably hear other people using them, though.”

So I asked him if he’d heard someone saying those words recently.  He said there were two boys in his class that were talking about it at lunch and they were trying to think of all the bad words they knew.  “They said there was an f-word, two s-words, three e-words, and a c-word.”  Little boys, you BETTER NOT teach my kid the c-word.  (I can't think of what the e-words must be.)  I’m not upset that he knows those words.  I knew it was just a matter of time and I’m amazed we made it this long.  I learned the s-word earlier than he has; in second grade when Justin Lavoie wrote it on a desk.  It didn’t mean anything to me then, just like those words don’t mean anything to Carter now, he just knows they’re “bad.”  But, he said, “I didn’t like that conversation very much.”

I’m not thrilled he knows those words now, just like I won’t like it when he no longer believes in Santa or the Tooth Fairy.  But I know those days are coming too.  In some ways I wish I could keep them both little forever, homeschool them and control everyone they meet and insulate them from all the bad in the world.  Last week these same boys asked him if he was friends with another kid they thought was weird.  Carter struggled with that, because he thought the weird kid was just fine, friendly even.  But he could see what those boys were asking, “Are you friends with the weird kid?  Because if you are, you’re weird too.”  We talked about that, and I told him he’d face that problem all his life.  Even as an adult you face that, adults are just more subtle.  “I don’t like that person, so you don’t need to like that person.”  

He asked me what he should do about it.  I asked him if he liked the “weird” kid.  He does, so I asked him if he thought it was a good enough reason to not be friends with him just because the other kids thought he was odd.  And I told him that if he stopped being friends with the odd kid, it would probably hurt his feelings.  But I didn’t tell him what to do; I asked him what he was going to do.  He said he was going to invite the boys to play with him and the weird kid, and they’d see how much fun he was. 

Yesterday I asked him what happened with all of that.  He said he introduced them all, and they played tag, and he doesn’t know if they all like each other but they all played together.  My boy the peacemaker.  I asked him what he’d do if those boys started up the “bad word” conversation again.  He said he sat with somebody else at lunch so he wouldn’t have to be a part of that conversation.

I’d really like to save him from that crap.  The peer pressure garbage and the do-you-like-me-I-like-you-but-different-is-bad idiocy.  There were some people I was friends with in school that weren't exactly scholars, nor were they the best-behaved people, but there was something to them I liked.  One girl had (and still has) the absolute best sense of humor; she wasn’t exactly brilliance personified but dang, she could make me laugh.  Another girl I knew used every expletive there was in every sentence she spoke – but she WAS brilliant and probably one of the kindest people I’ve had the good fortune of knowing.  I’d hate to know I’d have missed out on them if I’d been “saved” from the peer pressure of being friends with them.

I don’t know how I’m going to help these kids navigate this world.  It’s ugly.  As Christians, we need to be in the world and not of it.  That’s hard.  When you’re in the world you see all the ick and you have to deal with it.  People will hurt you, influence you for good and bad too, make you uncomfortable, and force you to make difficult decisions.   They make fun of you for being different.  You get labeled as a prude because you don’t do the same things they do; if you do the same things they do to “fit in”, you’re a hypocrite.  I don’t want anybody to teach my kids the c-word, offer them drugs, or tempt them to steal.  I don’t want them to be put in the morally-questionable yet socially-defining position of “let me copy.”  But neither do I want to completely insulate them from it, because the awful people of the world, that’s who we’re instructed to tell about Jesus.  To show them Jesus, because that might be all they ever see of Him.  How will they ever understand what people are going through, the temptations they face, the trouble they’re in, if they never have to see it?  How do they ever have an “I’ve been there, and this is how my faith in God helped me through it” conversation? 

I’m trying very hard not to keep all the bad things from reaching my kids; I AM trying very hard to warn them before they get blindsided with something, and to help them face the tough stuff.  To know where they stand on things before they’re challenged, so they’re confident about their opinions.  I worry those challenges will come before I’m ready.  I want them to be able to make good decisions when I’m not around to tell them what to do, and to know that awful things are out there and will have to be dealt with, one way or another.  I shudder at the mistakes they’re going to make, the temptations they’re going to fall prey to, and the horrible things that may befall them.  I can only pray that God will protect them and save them from themselves and the myriad bone-headed decisions they will inevitably make.  When I think of all the times I did something that could’ve gotten me maimed, beheaded, or killed… well, they say God protects fools and children and at any given time in my life, I’ve been one or the other.

So as much as I totally didn’t want to have to explain the word f#@k to my 8-year-old with my 5-year-old in earshot, at least we got the chance to talk about it.  Frankly I’m just glad he didn’t hear it from ME.