Someday, we will have a lot of parent/teacher conferences.

Since Leah's arrival, my husband and I have been trying to tone down our use of profanity.

Well.  Sort of trying.

Kind of.

It's not going well.

So one day, as I was crossing the living room floor and managed to trip over something (possibly my own feet, I don't know), I said, "Shit."  And then I immediately turned to Leah and advised, "That is a word you shouldn't say."

Later that same day, for reasons I don't recall, I said, "Fuck."  And then I turned to the baby again and said, "That is another word you shouldn't say."

And then I realized that if we cannot control our language around the baby, she at least ought to be advised of the words she shouldn't say.  Otherwise, how would she ever know which parts of our conversations are just for grown-ups?  She might be sitting in a third-grade social studies class, learning about government, and the teacher would say, "Our country has two major political parties, Democrats and Republicans," and Leah would gasp and scold her teacher for using the word "Republican."

(This, in case you were curious, is the same way I intend to approach the subject of sex with her someday: She is going to have it, and I would rather have her get the correct information from her father and myself than to trust the public education system to do it properly.  I am still horrified that in middle school, my sex ed class began with the teacher writing the word "ABSTINENCE" on the blackboard in 72-point font and underlining it with red colored chalk.  No, Leah is going to learn about sex properly, and not from some boy in the back of the bus with a magazine.)

But we have many-several years before she starts putting her Ken doll on top of the Barbie doll and furtively looking around to make sure no one's watching.

For now, swearing is the priority, and so when she was awake and alert, I put Leah in my lap and said, "Now listen.  There are some words that Mommy and Daddy say that you should not say ever.  Or... well, can you at least wait until you're 12?"  And then I proceeded to list them for her:

Shit
Fuck
Crap
Bitch, and while we're at it, comma-son of a
Asshole
Asswipe
Douchenozzle
Turd Gobbler

Then I realized she was looking up at me with the most adorable shit-eating grin you ever did see, and I said, "We are so screwed."

And then I said, "Don't say 'screw'."

But, no, seriously.  I should probably just stop talking in front of the baby for, like, forever.