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Wednesday, 26 July 2017

Oh, bugger: The toddler's first swear

It has happened; we have our first swear word. What do you do when your two year old swears?

It has happened; we have a swear word.

Another milestone ticked off the list; the final one in fact.

You might be thinking that as the big one is off in the wide world of preschool at the moment (or has been, it's the holidays... did I mention that yet?), it's really beyond my control, it's going to happen and I should not blame myself yada yada yada...

But no, it isn't her, it's the small one.

He has a good vocabulary now (he's come on leaps and bounds since I wrote this post) but his pronunciation is kinda squiffy, and he says things in that that cute toddler-speak (wanna build robop!) meaning the vast majority of it is a language understood only by myself, my husband and daughter. But this word, annoyingly, comes out loud and clear, and repeatedly.

Bugger Bugger Bugger.

The thing is, it's not one of my go-tos. If I'm going to swear, and I try very hard not to with small impressionable people present, I say go hard or go home. None of this 'bloody hell' or 'son of a bitch!'. It's shit, it can get f*cked or something similar. No, I do not believe myself to be responsible for this. Neither is my husband; he's not a swearer. Not in the house.

This means I can draw only one conclusion; my parents are at fault. I suspect my dad. Tsk tsk, Grandad.

No one has reacted. No one has laughed, no one has repeated it to him. He is getting nothing back. And yes it appears that the very sound of his own voice shouting BUGGER repeatedly is the funniest thing he's ever heard, and so by God he's going to keep doing it.

For four full days.

When it's happened in public, I have responded 'Bugg-ee! You mean buggy!' to show that I'm not a crap parent or at least I am trying to mitigate my crapness. I'm taking the buggy everywhere with me until this delightful phase is over.

But it's all a farce. He does not mean buggy.

I actually googled what to do, more for this blog post than my own information you understand. I landed on Babycentre where the advice was not to laugh, not to tell him off, and not to overreact. Check, check and check. I knew I was nailing it.

Then it also informed me that I shouldn't be calling him Stinky Bum McGee and wrinkling my nose when he does a poo either; so it's possible the kid is doomed.


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