You dropped the bomb on me, baby!

The new school year has started, and we’re starting to get back into it all. New grade, teacher, and new things to learn. It’s all good. Well, not all good. Depending on the things your children are learning, you have to understand that the teacher isn’t the only thing giving lessons.

Case in point. Karsyn is talking to Sonya the other day in the garage while I’m sitting in the kitchen. I don’t hear the question, but I do hear Sonya suggesting that Karsyn ask me. My inquisitive 7-year old proceeds to pop into the kitchen with a smile on her face, then drop the bomb on me.

“Dad, what does f**k mean?”

After almost swallowing my tongue, I glance at her mother, who decided to share in the fun by diverting the question over to me.

“Where did you hear that?” I asked.

“From < not-to-be-named-but-now considered-trashy-classmate >. She told me at school.”

Then there was some convoluted explanation about how this unnamed classmate “broke up” with her boyfriend because he said it, or something to that affect. I don’t really care why she said. I just care that this stuff is already making the rounds in the 3rd grade. The 3rd grade!!!!

I don’t really remember when I learned that word, but I seemed to recall that it generated the same type of response from my parents. I’m sure Karsyn noticed my eyes popping out of my head. I’m not even sure what my response was!

Something to the affect of, “that’s not a word you should be using, and if you do, people will think less of you.” I think Sonya were on the same page, with the approach that not making a big deal about it is the best way to not sensationalize the whole thing. If we had freaked out, then it just goes into the memory bank as something to get a rise out of down the road. What’s a parent to do?

Good God, is “the talk” just around the corner? Her mother will have fun with that one! It’s sad kids can’t just be kids for a while.