Learner Dad: I can't see any let-up in cursing while the kids are off school

Picture: iStock 

Our kids are cursing more than ever. There is nothing we can do about it. For reasons that I can’t remember, there is a rule in our place now that if Mom or Dad uses a bad word, the kids are allowed to use that word in the next sentence. 

In fairness, it’s fair. I think it started out as a way to curtail our own effing and blinding, but then Christmas and mild hangovers and rising Covid numbers and schools closed came along, and our 14-day curse rate per 100,000 words started going through the roof. So if you are any good at lip-reading and see us stopped at the traffic lights, don’t be surprised if you see a six-year-old boy in the back of our car, giving it the full Gordon Ramsay. 

I love listening to my kids cursing – they’re very good at it and to be honest I think it counts as a life skill if you’re an Irish person. My wife doesn’t agree. The way she sees it, six-year-old boys shouldn’t be using the F-word in front of their parents. Or anyone. I can see where she’s coming from, but still can’t stop myself from laughing every time one of the kids pulls off a proper bit of cursing. 

They’ve started a new thing now where one of them says half a curse and the other finishes it off.

Child One: Ho

Child Two: Lee

Child One: Ssh

Child Two: It

Neither child is cursing and they both are. I think that shows ingenuity and wit, two attributes that should serve them well in life as long as they don’t use them to launch a bitcoin scam. 

Their mother just sees two kids saying 'holy sh1t' while their father laughs away. This can sometimes cause her to curse, then the kids get a free curse, and off we go again . We need to sort this out because I can’t see any let-up in cursing while the kids are off school.

Lockdown 2 or is it 3? 

It depends on who you ask. For someone without kids, this is Lockdown 3, because the one that ran through November felt like a proper lockdown, with shops and pubs closed. But the kids were still at school, so it didn’t really count for parents who were able to work from home (thanks to the teachers). 

For us, this is the second proper Lockdown. For me, that means back to sourdough, Joe Wicks and convincing myself that we’re going to get a summer holiday in the sun. 

The sourdough is going well - there is something soothing about a ball of dough rising away in the fridge. Joe Wicks just announced he’s back this week, which is timely because I ate four boxes of Milk Tray in the first week of January. All I have to do now is find someone to tell me that we can have our French campsite holiday in early July. 

The internet is usually really good if you are looking for someone to agree with you, even if it means you’re both daft. In March and April last year, half the internet was convinced that summer couldn’t possibly get thrashed by a tiny microbe. It turned out that half the internet was wrong. 

This time out, no one is making any predictions. I have a tic where I pick up my phone every half hour to check if anyone in authority is willing to say: 'Everything is going to be OK, go ahead and book a holiday'. I’m so desperate that I’d take a Boris Johnson promise.

They say it’s the hope that will get you in the end. That’s rubbish. The hope of a warm breeze on my legs in July is enough to keep me going through January. And that’s enough for now.