You know how there's this tendency to put on our best face when we come to the internet. We don't want anyone to see the imperfect moments of our lives, so we stick to shiny moments.
This is not that post.
If you're looking for shiny, you'll have to look elsewhere today because I have a story that I feel the need to share.
It came at the end of a long day. My husband had spent the morning helping his parents pack up their shop to move to a new location. Then he spent the afternoon working baseball fields to prepare them for a tournament. He didn't get home until 8:30 p.m. and then he had to go back to help at his parents' shop.
I hadn't seen him all day, so I packed our two-year-old up in the truck and we rode over with him. None of us had eaten dinner yet and shortly after getting to the shop, my son's little voice came from the backseat.
My heart broke. I hadn't thought to grab a snack on the way out. Instead we got out of the truck to play.
At 9:30 we were all back in the truck. My husband was exhausted. He said, "I can't believe how much I've done today. I'm tired. And I haven't had dinner yet."
From the backseat, that little voice piped in again.
"No dinner yet? What the f---?"
Yes, I'm serious. And yes, I'll wait while you go read that again.
We couldn't help it. We laughed. It was a long day. We were all hungry. And our sweet little boy just cursed.
On our (thankfully very short) drive home, we talked about what was left at the shop. My husband relayed a series of objects still to be moved: supplies, framed pictures, a harp...
"Wait," I said. "A harp? Like a big thing you stand on the floor and pluck? That kind of harp?"
My husband: "Yes. Like a big harp in an even bigger case."
Two-year-old: "A f---ing harp!"
Horror. That's the only way to describe it. My husband and I looked at each other in that did-he-just-say-what-I-think-he-just-said way.
Because we like to think we're good, attentive parents. Well, decent anyway.
And now our two-year-old knows how to use the F word. Flawlessly. In two conjugations.
I warned you this wasn't a shiny story. And yet, I had to tell it. Because I know I'm not the only one who has found themselves in a scenario like this.
And maybe we should share these moments. Even though I'm scared my grandmother or my uncle or my dad will read this and question my judgment. Even if the people at church might be appalled.
Because it happened. This is life. It's imperfect and messy at times. Sometimes we say the wrong words and our children store them in the back of their brain for another time. And sometimes we laugh when we shouldn't.
So, let's get messy. What was your child's first bad word?