Practicing What I Preach

Last night when I was telling my oldest daughter good night, she didn't even wait for me to sit down on her bed before she asked matter-of-factly, "Mom, what does F#%k mean?"  Yes, I am completely serious.  Can you imagine this word coming out of my sweet little nine-year-old's mouth?

So what did I do?  Did I gasp and clutch my pearls?  Did I screech, "Where did you hear that word?!"  Did I go weak in the knees?  You bet your Granny's booty I did all of the above, but then I took a deep breath and remembered that I want my children to come to me with these questions.  And I took a moment and felt very grateful that she was asking me instead of someone else.

Last night I did indeed discuss the f-word with my nine-year-old.  We talked about the fact that most "bad words" aren't actually about bad things.  I have heard some pretty horrible words used to describe certain parts of the human anatomy.  None of these body parts are bad, of course, but some of these words are quite rude and disrespectful.  (At this point in the conversation Emma chimed in and said, "It's like someone's insulting your va-jay-jay."  Exactly.)  The same idea applies to the f-word.  Emma already knew about the mechanics of "having sex."  She, of course, at the age of nine, thinks it is completely gross, but her dad and I have told her that sex is really nice when a person is grown up, married and in love.  (That is all a nine year old needs to know, people.)  So I explained that the f-word is like having 'sex without the love'.  That word takes everything beautiful and loving out of sex and makes it into something bad.  This made perfect sense to her.

"... So what's a d!#k?"  she asked next.  Oh boy, we've got a long road ahead of us, don't we?  The answer to this question brought on a fit of giggles that lasted a good ten minutes.  Then I tucked my little girl in for the night, a little wiser but very much on the right track as far as I'm concerned.

And since we're on the subject of that little mademoiselle, here are a few photos of her newly painted, Rock Star bedroom.  The walls turned out to be two very respectable shades of purple (Xanadu and Ashley's Heather), and the accessories are a work in progress...

Don't grow up too quickly my dear Rock Star!  Childhood innocence is far too fleeting.

"A child is a curly dimpled lunatic."  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson