I Told You She Is A Bitch
“I told you she is a bitch” is not the kind of thing I expect to hear my children say to each other. It is not because they never swear because they do.
In fact because I am a better father than you are they have gained a very colorful vocabulary. They aren’t walking around talking about Ironing Icicles in Iceland like my friend Kaarina did on her blog today, but they come up with pretty good alternatives.
Nor are they taking advantage of any of the fantastic words I have shared here with you. You won’t hear them say someone is a poltroon or a flibbertigibbet. Nor will they appreciate words like raconteur, scaturient or defalcate.
Since they are 11 and 7.5 I suppose that I can forgive them for not knowing these words that dear old dad sometimes uses. What can I say, I like words and I like language.
Still, none of those things prepared me to hear my son say “I told you she is a bitch” to his sister.
I suppose that the reason it surprised me was because he used the word in a more sophisticated manner than I would have expected. I wasn’t the only one to be surprised that day because when I made eye contact with them they started bobbing and weaving.
“Dad, it is not what you think. You didn’t hear a bad word.” I nodded my head and responded, “you may approach the bench.” The dark haired beauty took issue with that and told me to stop screwing around because we clearly don’t have any benches inside the house.
I looked at her and said that one day she would make her husband very happy. Got to give her credit because she told me that there was no need for sarcasm. The really frightening part about that was how I thought I heard my mother’s voice coming from her, but I digress.
“Honey, it is an expression. It is something that judges sometimes say to lawyers.” She really liked that and for the next two minutes every time her brother tried to speak she yelled, “I object!”
I have no one to blame but myself for that. Too many hours of Marx Brothers movies while they were in utero and beyond has made it clear that we are going to share a long life of wonderful antics, cracks and comments.
“Dad, I want to tell you what really happened but I keep getting cut off.” I hate to admit this but I couldn’t help but interrupt then. “Monster, you were blessed in that department. The mohel only cut you once. One day you and your wife will thank me for that.”
“Ooh, I hate girls and I am not getting married.”
“I used to hate girls too and then something happened.”
“What happened. Did you get hit in the head.”
See, we are all comedians in this family.
“Nope, but I wish that I had. I could use an excuse. Anyway, speak quickly or your sister will step in and she speaks faster than both of us.”
“Dad, Lizzie is a female dog. That means that she is a bitch. I can call her bitch because when I call her a bitch no one can say that I used a bad word because she really is a bitch.”
That last exchange is more proof that he is mine, not that I ever questioned it. He has my hands and my feet. I should add that I kept a straight face for that last exchange but I wanted to smile because he did a nice job of working bitch into his speech.
My daughter nodded her head. “I didn’t know that bitch isn’t always a bad word and Jack Jr. helped teach me something. See, I learned something new today.”
One day these children of mine are going to do something amazing and or get away with all sorts of stuff. I think that they are already smarter than I am, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Got to find a way to keep them at bay for a little bit longer.
That is part of why I didn’t tell them about the Hall and Oates Song “Rich Girl.” Or rather I didn’t tell them because when I was a kid I got in trouble for singing “She is a bitch girl.” That wasn’t me screwing around, I really thought that is what they were singing.
Thus spaketh Jack, The Dad Blogger and writer extraordinaire. 😉