Class Act

In response to another recent lesson in “Class Act from Daddy’s Perspective,” Em told me We don’t say Goddamn, Daddy. That makes me angry and sad. He also thought it might do me some good to sit in time-out. I asked him if he was out of his Goddamn mind. No, actually, I sided with him—if only because I had imparted that wisdom to him but a mere couple weeks prior. He had used the word in perfect context. Context (as with Timing) is rarely mastered by folks my own age, much less by three-year-olds. So, I’m thinking Cool. My Boy is mastering Context! But, again, he’s three. I figure I can’t have him running around Temple Playschool going, Goddamnit, Brian! If you step on my puzzle again I’m going to whip your ass! I mean, even if it is justified, Ms. Edna and Ms. Janice might not like it. So, I explained to him that it really isn’t a nice word but that sometimes adults use it and I shouldn’t use it and I don’t want him using it and yadablahyadablahyada. I know the word is terribly offensive to some—particularly here in the South. But I like it. I’ve always liked it. The way it rolls effortlessly off the tongue. The way it can express joy as well as rage; agitation as well as relief; astonishment as well disinterest. It offers the whole package. But I make every attempt to stay keenly aware of my surroundings; and in doing so I try to maintain at least a slight sense of social decorum. That means that even though I am an ass a good amount of the time and spend a great part of my day trying to amuse myself, I don’t go out of my way to offend unsuspecting folk. However, if you are in my ever-shrinking circle, you’ll know I walk a tremendously fine line. Be that as it may, Em knows that saying Goddamn isn’t the wisest choice for either of us. He called me out and rightly so. He’s got some aging to do before he fully understands the complexities of who and who not to offend; of when and when not to be entirely inappropriate; of self-censoring and self-preservation. He’s a bright and considerate one. He’ll figure it out, with or without continued lessons from me. Until then, we’ve reached an accord. I’ll tone it down as best I can. And he’ll refrain completely—at least until Brian steps on his Goddamn puzzle.