"Mom, what does fuck mean?"
"It's a verb that means to make love."
"What does make love mean?"
"It means sex."
"So why was the guy at the gas station telling the other guy to get his MotherSexing hands off of the garbage? I thought you said sex was a beautiful thing between two people who love each other? Do you think they love each other? Are they like married daddies? Would it be okay if I called you a MotherSexer because you're my mother and I love you?"
This is when I go very quiet because I'm trying to negotiate traffic. I'm also engaged in the mental process of 'issue spotting'. I learned how to issue spot in law school. In law school, it's a good thing to be able to issue spot. In motherhood, sometimes it's a bad thing. Sometimes there are so many issues that the only reaction is paralysis.
|I am not a MotherSexer!|
"You may not ever use THAT word."
"Which word? MotherFucker or MotherSexer?"
"Either word. They are very bad words and they are only used by bad, bad people. If you use those words at school you will be sent to the principal's office. Your friends' parents won't invite you over any more. Those are the kinds of words people use in (dramatic pause) prison. Do you want to wind up in prison? Is that the way you want to spend your lives?" (voice climbs to a hysterical pitch)
Two pairs of wide eyes look at me and shake their heads. No, they most certainly do not want to end up in prison.
Yes, I know I'm deliberately using ambiguity to steer my children away from a certain, ahem, genre of language. And yes, I also know I haven't heard the end of the subject. But maybe, just maybe, I will never, ever have to hear the word MotherSexer again. If that's the case, then I feel like my scare tactics will have been 100% justified.