Today was Bison Daughter’s dance recital; she had to be at the show early so Mrs Bison took her, and I went along later. After the show she wanted to drive home with Dad, so I put her in the front seat of the truck as a treat, since she’s probably big enough now. As we were driving home a twat in a Toyota Sequoia cut me off; with my little girl beside me I could neither swear at him or utilize the appropriate hand signals, so I resorted to mouthing the words in the hope that the twat was looking in his rearview mirror.
Later at home, with Bison Daughter still in her Nutcracker Suite costume and make-up, we were sitting at the table when she explained to Mrs Bison that there had been this man who Daddy had got angry with.
“I think he said fuck” she stated, in a perfectly polite voice.
Bear in mind that we have been at pains to avoid teaching our daughter any of the really bad (good?) swearwords, and we had no idea that she knew this word yet. Mrs Bison looked at me balefully, as if to say “how could you have taught our little girl that word?”
I was quick to realize that, bright as my daughter may be, she would not likely be able to lipread a word she didn’t already know, so I asked how she learned it.
“At soccer” she replied, meaning my indoor soccer games, which she watches sometimes, “Chris is always saying it.”
That much is true. Chris, a fuckwit who should know better, thinks nothing of talking loudly after the game about the “fucking referee”, the “fucking goal” or the “fucker” who tackled him. Bison Daughter never reacted to the word, never showed any indication that she had heard it and never asked about it, but clearly she had filed it away for future reference.
OK, so I was off the hook as the source of the new word, but now we had to make sure she didn’t use it again. Mrs Bison told her in a very severe voice that this was not a word we ever wanted to hear from her again.
“OK” said Bison Daughter. Then, as an apparent afterthought, she said “Cock”.
I’m sorry, I know I should have kept a straight face, but her comic timing was impeccable – you had to be there to appreciate it. I about fell off my chair. On the one hand it may be appalling that she knows words like that, but on the other hand she knows how to use them sparingly and appropriately, to great comedic effect. (And, fortunately, only at home.)
The good news is she didn’t notice that according to me the bloke in the Toyota was also a wanker…
Copyright © 2008 Edward Bison