My eldest son, Big Man, is turning 15 this month. He’s 6’1″, has chop sideburns down to his chin and thinks he’s 25. Part of his ‘age complex’ is the fault of myself and his father; I know this. For the first half of his life he spent a lot of time around adult members of our family. I raised him to be very independant. Now, for the past two years, his father has been training him to work the door at our comedy clubs for extra cash on the weekends. Basically he’s had a job dealing with adults since he was 13; we should have expected this to alter his opinion on how old he is allowed to act.
Just last night he was recounting one of his favorite tv show episodes to me and his dad. He was rambling along about a certain scene when he busted out with “…and the dude was so pissed off”. It took me half a second to realize what I’d heard and I stopped him mid sentence with ‘that’ look.
“I’m sorry….what did you just say?”
“What?” He gave me that ‘you’re crazy’ look.
“Did you just curse right in front of me?”
At this point my husband was extremely quiet. He knows my lack of tolerance for children cursing in front of adults; especially their parents.
“Oh come on, Mom. ‘Pissed’ is not a curse word.”
“Since when?”
“It’s not a bad word here. (in Massachusetts) and besides, they even say it on tv!”
Did I miss something? I had no idea cursing changed from state to state. In the South, where both myself and my son were raised, cursing is cursing. If you let a word fly in front of your parents be ready for a cuff to the ear or at least a ‘wither you where you stand’ glare from your mom. You do not use your potty mouth in front of your parents. Why does that change just because we crossed state lines? It doesn’t. Not in this house. I can still remember the first time I cursed in front of my mother — I was 27 years old. My younger brother and I had gotten into a fight at our parents’ house and I screamed “Kiss My Ass!” Well, you could have heard a pin drop because of the silence that took over the room before my mother said, very quietly, “Excuse me?!” It didn’t matter how mad I was or how frustrating the situation had become – you don’t cuss in front of Momma.
