With a speed that may not surprise anyone, I have an update on last week’s column, which concerned my five-year-old son’s newfound propensity for swearing. To recap: he had taken to uttering the foul-mouthed, if charmingly incoherent, exclamation ‘forfookinsake’, when frustrated. We were worried by its regularity and vehemence, but especially by its cod-Hibernian pronunciation, which pointed to a clear provenance from his foul-mouthed, and Irish-accented parents. (Careful readers will note that this is a fancy way of saying we wouldn’t have minded so much if we thought we could blame anyone other than ourselves.)
In that column, I more-or-less made the argument that it’s best not to draw attention to such things, particularly if your child isn’t using it for shock value. Well, that was last week, when I was a merciful God King passing pearls of wisdom to the parents of the world, and this is now, where I have been once more shown to be God’s one perfect moron.
