Foul Language

I’m not an advocate of foul language. It doesn’t work for me nor does it seem to carry the waft of intelligence. If someone else foul mouths it that’s up to them. But sure would be nice if they kept that language away from kids. Even their own.

I was at the park with the kids one morning. Swing set, slides, sand pit. All the attractive nuisances. A little boy, five years, got upset with someone and tossed off some inappropriate language. What can you do but look at the parents and wonder what that existence is like.

Now then, I’d be untruthful if I told you that I don’t get upset or lose patience with people, situations, and things. I do my best to temper my language.


Summer 2005

We frequent a local water park every summer. Season passes, we secure. Pulling out of our parking space one time and ready to proceed to the exit we were caught behind a driver seemingly confused with what they were doing. This necessitated that I wait beyond my tolerance threshold while they figure themselves out.

“Come on you clown,” I said out loud losing my patience and forgetting that the boy was in the back seat.

“Where’s the clown, daddy?” came a query of pure innocence from the back seat hoping for a glimpse of a colorfully attired goofball. He was four.


I was glad that I didn't foul mouth it.
-klem