“Why can’t I say Fuck?” my 9 year old son protests.
It all started a week back when I saw at least a dozen ‘fucks’ scribbled all over his note book. No. Cant be. Not my baby boy. It took me an entire day to accept that this was my son’s handwriting. I would have sent it for forensic analysis had I not been too mortified to show it to another. Shouldn’t he hit his teens before dropping me down this rabbit hole? The next two days were spent wringing my hands and deciding the appropriate course of action – ignore or confront. Ignore, said the girl whose own mother had determined the night before her nuptials to be the suitable time to explain about the ‘birds and the bees’. Even that conversation went – I suppose your married friends told you that somethings are going to happen. Enlightening! Talk about it, said the more pragmatic mother. Score pragmatic mum. The next step was consulting with the girl gang, after all we had sworn to be together through thick and think, and this was as thick or thin as it could get. Script prepared, rehearsals done, and a week later I sit him down and plunge headlong into the topic.
Where did you learn this word?
I didn’t write that.
It’s your handwriting sweetie. I’m not mad. I’m just curious.
Looks left, right, up, down, round about. No reply.
Baby, all I’m saying is that it’s not a nice word. It’s slang. Just the way you shouldn’t say shit, you shouldn’t say this either. See, I cant utter it either!
All the boys use it.
I’m dying, I’m really really dying on the inside, but it’s imperative I maintain a calm façade. You will understand better when they teach you about reproduction in school.
I’ve read about reproduction.
Not in botany, I mean in animals and humans.
I know about reproduction in humans. Adin and I read about it in the encyclopedia.
Well this word is just a mean way of saying that and since it’s the mean way you shouldn’t say it.
What’s wrong with reproduction?
There’s nothing wrong with reproduction.
Then why can’t I say Fuck?