The piñata store on the way to Violet’s school is always a hot topic on the morning drive. Each day there is a new selection hung outside on a wire – ponies, mermaids, superheroes, soccer balls, cartoon icons – lots of options for anyone throwing a kid’s party.
We’ve been commenting on these piñatas for months now, always listing what’s currently on display, and imagining what other plaster icons might be available inside. Lately there have been an awful lot of bird’s heads, which are basically just balls with beaks. Compared to the others, they’re boring and unimpressive.
For the record, Violet would like a Sleeping Beauty piñata for her birthday party in September. It’s going to be an exciting day when we go to pick it up, since we’ve never actually been in the store. Or so I thought…
“Daddy had a talk with the piñata store people yesterday,” Violet informed me this morning from her car seat.
“He did? He actually went in there?”
“Really? What did he say to them?” I couldn’t believe I didn’t get a text about this.
“He said, ‘Why are there so many fuckin’ bird’s heads all the time?'” Ah ha. So he didn’t actually go in then.
“Okay, umm…you know we don’t use that word though, right?”
“You mean fuckin’?” Her pronunciation is fantastic.
“That’s the one. It’s a bad word.”
“Like stupid and dummy.”
“Yes, stupid and dummy are bad words too, but it’s a little bit different.”
“And idiot. Stupid and dummy and idiot and fuck are all bad words.”
“But fuck is a word that makes some people very uncomfortable, much more so than those other words. It’s hard to explain why that is. Really it’s kind of silly, because it’s just a word, but you have to understand that it’s different from other words, and it offends people.”
“Daddy says it all the time!”
“Yes, you’re right.”
“And you say it too, Mom. A lot.”
“Yes, well maybe Daddy and I shouldn’t say it so much, since it is a bad word. And you shouldn’t say in front of your teachers, okay? Or actually anywhere in public. Little girls aren’t supposed to say fuck.” What a ridiculous thing to come out of my mouth.
“Well maybe when you get older you won’t say it. How old are you when your birthday is here?”
“I’m going to be forty-two.”
“Right. Forty-two. So when you’re forty-two, you will stop saying fuck.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, because you’ll be a big girl.”
Yet likely not any more mature. I doubt there’s much hope for me for a full ban on this most interesting, versatile, satisfying word.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s great fucking word.