Cussing with David

“Daddy, want to know all the bad words I know?” asked my six-year-old son David.

We were driving home from school just the two of us, so I said: “Sure. Fire away.”

“Well, I know the S word,” he said.

“Really,” I said.

“It starts with an S-H actually,” he said.

“Really,” I said, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter.

“You use it when you want people to be quiet,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said. “That is bad.”

“I know the F word, too,” he said.

I readjusted the rearview mirror to get a look at him.

“It’s another word for toot.”

“Yeah, I prefer using toot,” I said, which is true.

“Then, I know the D word,” David continued on his litany.

How come every NON-cuss word starts with a letter of a REAL cuss word? I wondered.

“It is the same as the other S word.”

“I wouldn’t use either of those,” I remarked.

“And the B word for when people throw up, and O.M.G…You can say that, but you can’t say the words.”

“You really do know a lot of bad words,” I said.

“Yeah,” said David with pride.

“Want to know something Dave Dave?” I call David Dave Dave.  

“Sure,” he said.

“I love you,” I said.

“Love is a good word,” said David.

“Yes it is,” I said.