monkey see, monkee do

Sometimes I fear that I may be inadvertently creating a monster. Or, at the very least, a toddler with a trash-mouth. I’m discovering that a 10-month-old is really a lot like a sponge. She picks up on things quite fast, and if I don’t change my vocabulary, I’m going to be one embarrassed dad on a future visit to the local Giant Eagle.

The speed with which she learns new things is astonishing. She did the “So Big” thing (arms raised above her head) after very little demonstration from Mom and me. She claps when someone says “Yea!”, and we’re working on getting her to show people she’s one by using her pointer finger. Her First Birthday is quickly approaching. Which brings me to the possibility of needing to hide behind the cookie display at the local grocery store.

See, I have a potty-mouth. Actually, what I have is far beyond a potty-mouth. I think I would make truck drivers blush. I drop the F-Bomb like it is an ordinary word in ordinary conversation. And I don’t stop there, oh no. I use a lot of words that any child should have her mouth washed out with soap for using. Our daughter hasn’t really started to talk, but if I don’t learn to watch it, her first word isn’t going to be something cute like “kitty” or “ma-ma”. It’s going to be “sh*t” or worse.

What I really need to do is find a replacement word. I know, I know, that’s only a temporary fix and if I’m not careful, she’ll go around saying that instead. But it’s a start. Besides, it’s an understatement to say that going cold turkey is going would be difficult. I know I have to stop using my gutter mouth or die freaking trying.