It was a typical day at the bank drive-thru, where I was engaging in a light-hearted conversation with my 4-year-old, Mia, about which flavor of lollipop she would pick. Suddenly, the tube returned, but instead of a treat, it brought back an empty bank receipt. Cue the dramatic music.
“Uh-oh, Mia, it seems like the lady forgot to include your sucker,” I said, trying to keep my voice upbeat. “What a bummer! We’ll have to get one next time.” The seconds felt like hours as I waited for her response. Then, out of nowhere, she shouted, “Dammit!” and hurled her drawing pad onto the floor of our minivan.
I was thankful she couldn’t see my reaction because, let’s be honest, it was a little amusing. Plus, I felt a strange sense of pride that she had used that word appropriately. If anything warranted a “dammit,” it was definitely a disappointing bank visit.
I took a moment to explain that was a grown-up word that she shouldn’t use. I suggested some alternative expressions for her to use when frustrated, like “rats” or “shucks” — words I wouldn’t typically say but felt useful in this context.
Later that day, my older child, 9-year-old Lily, informed me that Mia had tried to ask Siri a question on the iPad. When Siri replied with her usual “I’m afraid I can’t take any questions right now,” Mia slammed the tablet on the couch and let out another “dammit!” Clearly, my earlier guidance had missed the mark.
Days later, when I shared the sad news that the Broncos had lost, Mia looked at me carefully and exclaimed, “Oh, bammit!” It seemed she had cleverly found a workaround for her newfound vocabulary.
This wasn’t our first encounter with colorful language. At age 2, Mia went through a phase with the F-word, using it in perfect context. One time, after spilling her snack, she muttered, “Ohhhh, fuck.” I took her on a road trip, hoping she wouldn’t blurt that out in front of my 92-year-old grandmother.
Initially, I tried not to react when she swore; many articles suggested that ignoring it would prevent her from using it as a power play. But when she let loose at childcare, I knew I had to address it. Luckily, her swearing didn’t seem to catch on with her peers, and after a gentle reminder, she eventually stopped.
Unlike her little sister, Lily, the responsible firstborn, didn’t engage in swearing with the same fervor. However, one incident changed everything. When she asked me for her wet pink pants, she cheerfully remarked, “I guess I’ll just have to wait ’til fuckin’ morning!” I couldn’t help but laugh, grateful that my back was turned. When I casually asked her to repeat what she said, she quickly adjusted to, “I guess I’ll just have to wait ’til crummy morning!” That effectively ended her swearing phase.
Here’s the thing: I don’t consider swearing to be a major issue. My kids have clearly picked up on some of my choice words. While I don’t intentionally drop F-bombs around them, I have been known to exclaim “dammit” when I spill things or misplace my keys. Honestly, what else is there to say when you miss the school bus?
I do my best to limit unnecessary swearing around my kids, but avoiding profanity isn’t my top priority as a parent—it’s not even in my top 100 concerns. They will encounter bad words, learn their meanings, and figure out the right contexts in which to use them. I trust they will grow into wonderful individuals regardless of their occasional slip-ups.
Interestingly, my preschooler is quick to call out anyone who uses the word “stupid,” making sure to tattle on even fictional characters. My children understand that the truly harmful words—like hate, dumb, and ugly—are off-limits in our home. A rare “dammit” from a loving child? I can manage that.
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In summary, while my preschooler is starting to dabble in swearing, I embrace it as a natural part of her development. I focus on teaching her the importance of kind language while not sweating the occasional slip.