No, I Do Not Want To Sit In Miss Amber's Room

One of the many skills I took away from my years in newsrooms was the ability to swear like a truck driver. Literally. Rile me up enough and I can curse out even the most foul-mouthed competitor, and I usually feel better when I'm through.

I've shocked more than a few co-workers with my F-bombs, and have taken steps to tone myself down since leaving journalism. But sometimes when things really go wrong, when I'm really late, or when someone really pisses me off, I just can't help myself.

Unfortunately, now I have a new audience: my nearly 4-year-old son, who listens to and repeats virtually every word I say. And – inadvertently - I've already taught him a couple of gems.

Much to Dave's horror I usually burst out laughing when he comes out with a "Damn it" or "Crap," or "Christ," but thankfully they seem to have this covered at school. Kindercare follows a strict No Naughty Words policy that comes with a severe penalty: sitting in Miss Amber's room.

Truthfully, I have no clue why this works. I've met Miss Amber, and she seems perfectly nice. She teaches the 5-year-olds and has a classroom filled with toys and books, not whips and needles. But for some reason that threat alone seems to have been enough to teach Owen not to swear (much).

I, on the other hand, am still struggling. This morning, for instance, I yelled "damn it" when I stepped on stray cat food and cursed again when I couldn't find any socks that matched. Dave, standing at the counter making breakfast, showed mock horror on his face and said, "Tell Mommy not to use naughty words, Owen."

Owen agreed and looked at me very seriously.

"Do you want to go sit in Miss Amber's room Mommy?" he asked.

I thought for a minute. Maybe it wasn't so bad there. I could curse up a storm and the worst thing that would happen is a stern look from this teacher who is about a half foot shorter than me. I could probably take her, I thought. Then I looked at Dave who had his this-is-a-teachable-moment look on his face, and shook my head.

"No, I don't," I said, looking remorseful.

"All right then," Owen said. "No naughty words."

Oh shit. What am I supposed to do now?