Thursday, May 26, 2016
Thursday
"Daddy, say hulk cock"
"what?"
"Say, hulk cock"
"Ham hock"
"No, Hulk Cock"
"Cossack"
"No!"
"What are you saying?"
"It's like Hawkeye from the avengers."
"Oh, who's Hawkeye?"
And just like that I'd pulled out of Micah's Hulk Cock death spiral and on to something else. I feel pretty confident he was just combining super heroes and sounds in his head. I could be wrong. Tomorrow at school he could whisper to his friend Charles "I was so close. He almost said it." But I don't think he really wanted me to say Hulk Cock.
A couple of months ago I was driving him to school. He was working out something new in his head, trying out the syllables quietly to himself.
"Daddy?"
"Yes baby?"
"What does f-f-fucking mean?"
I was not prepared for this. I should not have been driving. I was suddenly hot, and couldn't think. It was a miracle that a crane truck happened to drive by and I shouted "Look! Shiny!"
It's our fault. He didn't hear it on TV, or at school. This is on us. I remember having an argument with Ana in the car that ended with me yelling "Fine! We'll go to FUCKING Chipotle!"
"What's fucking Chipotle?" Micah asked from the backseat.
But that was a year ago, and he was repeating something he'd just heard me say. We'd been good since then! On our best behavior. When he presented the word to me out of the blue, polished and uncluttered, I wasn't ready. I reacted to his question in looney toons fashion. My eyes shot out of my head and my mouth turned into a kind of steam whistle. On the inside. But on the outside I was serene. I would not attach any titillation to this word.
Potty words have been spreading through our class like wildfire. First it was Butts. Then Poop. Micah was particularly bad about chanting Poop at lunch time, holding the vowel out in sing song glee.
I would not let Fuck become the new Poop. I said nothing. Revealed nothing. I dropped him off at school and quietly warned his teachers.
"What did you tell him?" They asked.
"Nothing! I have no idea what do." I whispered, perhaps with a bit of residual steam whistle.
I remember working at the JCREW distribution center in Asheville. I was 20 and felt like a tourist among the hill people I worked with there. One morning a cross eyed woman named Amanda told me her children had embarrassed her at the grocery store the night before. They were all in the buggy, going down the isle and one of them looked up and said "Look Mama!!" and then used the n-word at a perfectly fine family.
Parts of Asheville in the early '00s (I'm saying aughts in my head) were like most other places in the 1970s. But I'm getting off track.
Micah will be fine. If he says fuck again, It will probably be in front of Ana, and she'll know what to do. It could be worse. Seems like kids spill all your secrets. Thank god we're just potty mouths and not closet racists.
"what?"
"Say, hulk cock"
"Ham hock"
"No, Hulk Cock"
"Cossack"
"No!"
"What are you saying?"
"It's like Hawkeye from the avengers."
"Oh, who's Hawkeye?"
And just like that I'd pulled out of Micah's Hulk Cock death spiral and on to something else. I feel pretty confident he was just combining super heroes and sounds in his head. I could be wrong. Tomorrow at school he could whisper to his friend Charles "I was so close. He almost said it." But I don't think he really wanted me to say Hulk Cock.
A couple of months ago I was driving him to school. He was working out something new in his head, trying out the syllables quietly to himself.
"Daddy?"
"Yes baby?"
"What does f-f-fucking mean?"
I was not prepared for this. I should not have been driving. I was suddenly hot, and couldn't think. It was a miracle that a crane truck happened to drive by and I shouted "Look! Shiny!"
It's our fault. He didn't hear it on TV, or at school. This is on us. I remember having an argument with Ana in the car that ended with me yelling "Fine! We'll go to FUCKING Chipotle!"
"What's fucking Chipotle?" Micah asked from the backseat.
But that was a year ago, and he was repeating something he'd just heard me say. We'd been good since then! On our best behavior. When he presented the word to me out of the blue, polished and uncluttered, I wasn't ready. I reacted to his question in looney toons fashion. My eyes shot out of my head and my mouth turned into a kind of steam whistle. On the inside. But on the outside I was serene. I would not attach any titillation to this word.
Potty words have been spreading through our class like wildfire. First it was Butts. Then Poop. Micah was particularly bad about chanting Poop at lunch time, holding the vowel out in sing song glee.
I would not let Fuck become the new Poop. I said nothing. Revealed nothing. I dropped him off at school and quietly warned his teachers.
"What did you tell him?" They asked.
"Nothing! I have no idea what do." I whispered, perhaps with a bit of residual steam whistle.
I remember working at the JCREW distribution center in Asheville. I was 20 and felt like a tourist among the hill people I worked with there. One morning a cross eyed woman named Amanda told me her children had embarrassed her at the grocery store the night before. They were all in the buggy, going down the isle and one of them looked up and said "Look Mama!!" and then used the n-word at a perfectly fine family.
Parts of Asheville in the early '00s (I'm saying aughts in my head) were like most other places in the 1970s. But I'm getting off track.
Micah will be fine. If he says fuck again, It will probably be in front of Ana, and she'll know what to do. It could be worse. Seems like kids spill all your secrets. Thank god we're just potty mouths and not closet racists.
# posted by joel @ 11:23 AM 
