K knows very little English, except in one category. Yep. Swear words. Epic swear words. She and Elliott have been shrieking and laughing and running and pillow fighting and they’re having a great time. And today, in addition to giggles, I heard f—ing b–ch. Lots and lots of f—ing b–ch, with the bird a-flyin’. Many thoughts hit me at once. First and foremost, make it stop. I told her that we don’t say those words and eventually got her to stop…ish. Second, oh break my heart that she uses these words with a five-year-old, because they were probably used with her. And third…I almost choked trying not to laugh out loud.
Elliott had no idea what she was saying. And with her accent, he heard “funky beach.” So I have a Latvian teen hurling her best swear-bombs at my little boy who doesn’t even understand her. She’s laughing and swearing, he’s laughing and screaming “You funky beach!!! You funky beach!!!” Yeah, baby, you really nailed her with that one. Whew-ee.
In some ways, they are both so innocent. She knows no better, and he knows nothing. I decided to let the humor outweigh the horror and had a good laugh inside my head. I’m just waiting for that call from the preschool telling me that my son is calling everyone a funky beach.
