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 ...
