The Cat’s Outta The Bag

The other night we were all in the living room, Mark and I were watching tv and Ryerson and Carter were laughing while they wrestled around on the floor. Ryerson was climbing all over Carter while he (Carter) held his hands in front of his private parts… Gage and Carter have learned the hard way that Ryerson is not above using their Boyhood as a punching bag, and it wasn’t long before Ryerson hit him where it hurts.

“Ryerson, you little #!#@#!!”

Whaaaat???

My sweet little boy, who isn’t embarrassed to tell me “I love you” in front of his friends, who once asked if he was part Irish, “Then why don’t I have pointy ears?”, said a word so foul…

I blushed.

I couldn’t imagine where he had heard That Word… he certainly didn’t hear it from me. I prefer not to refer to certain parts of the female anatomy in such crude terminology (heh), and he’s only 9… as far as I know, he doesn’t watch porn.

It was one of the only times in my life I can remember being stunned speechless… but as with everything in life, all good things must come to an end.

“WHAT THE HECK DID YOU JUST SAY!”

Carter looked at me, his face a picture of innocence and confusion.

“What?”

“That… that… WORD! What did you just say?”

“Oh. You mean #!#!@!?”

“Well, shit, don’t say it again! Where did you learn that word?”

“From Tyler. Why? Is it a naughty word?”

Ahhh… it was all beginning to make sense. Tyler moved into the neighborhood a few months ago… Mark and I have wondered about him, questioning  the kinds of things that go on at his house. We haven’t allowed Carter to play at his house, but seeing as we’ve had nothing but a feeling to go by, we haven’t had the heart to banish him from ours. It isn’t very often he comes over, anyway, so usually I don’t have to worry about it. Carter told me Tyler gets on his nerves, and it isn’t unusual for Carter to ask me to tell him he’s busy when he knocks on our door.

“Tell him I’m grounded, I don’t wanna play with him today.”

I don’t object.

Whenever I would ask Carter why he doesn’t like Tyler, he wouldn’t give me a straight answer, probably foreseeing the day when he would want to play with him, even if it was only out of boredom. So I assume he kept his mouth shut, knowing if he told me the kind of language Tyler uses, I wouldn’t let him play with him.

Mark and I sat him down, and talked to him about Tyler and the kind of language he uses. Apparently, this isn’t the only word Tyler tosses around like a drunken bachelor at at strip club… he uses language that would make the writers of “Sex And The City” cringe with embarrassment.

“Honey, that word is really naughty… it’s worse than the “F” word.”

There’s no quicker way to get through to kids than to compare swear words to The Big Kahoona… it’s the word by which all swear words are judged. And sure enough, his eyes grew wide and he put his hand over his mouth (whether out of shock or he was protecting himself, afraid that I was gonna come at him with a bar of soap, I don’t know).

“Iiiiit iiiiis? I didn’t know that! I won’t say it again.”

“That’s fine, honey, you didn’t know… now why don’t you go take a shower.”

Mark and I waited until he had left the room before we burst out laughing… we had managed to keep a straight face up until that point.

“Poor kid, he had no idea! Did you see the look on his face when you told him it was worse than the “F” word?”

“I know, right… I don’t think he’ll be sayin’ that again!”

“Damn straight.”