My wife and I have been battling a chronic illness: Foul Mouth Disease. It seems that neither of us can seem to stop using curse words while in the presence of JD, our son.
I seem to be worse in the car, whereas her slips come at home. I give her looks when she does and give myself a smack when I curse.
Neither of us were brought up in homes where swearing was prevalent. I did not hear my mother swear until high school, my father at age twenty-three. My wife's family used the "S" word occasionally, but not regularly. More in humor than in anger, it seems. (I wasn't there, so don't hold me to anything I say about her family history.)
I feel like we're heading down a road that will lead to a scene from the movie, "Meet the Fockers," wherein Ben Stiller swears in front of his toddler soon-to-be-nephew whose speech has been delayed. He repeat Stiller's cursing, "A**hole!" to the TV during a sporting event. I can just imagine JD's first word being F or S. That would be bad, either way. We are trying to be good. Maybe we've been single for so long, we've lost any sense of time and place. Or we're just a couple of foul-mouthed behemoths.