Some time ago, I wrote a post on the Fine Art of Ionizing the Atmosphere.
I learned how to use Vile Language at my Grandma’s knee - or at least, sitting in the car with her as she drove. So I’ve had plenty of time to get, er, ahhh...well-practiced at it.
When our children came along, I had to pull back on the Filth-Reins a bit. This I did...with mixed success. The result? My daughters are lovely of mien and manner, but they know how to hurl the well-placed fuckbomb when the occasion demands.
We have in our possession a 1984-vintage videotape that shows the (then) 22-month-old Mistress of Sarcasm saying an indistinct, but recognizable, “Oh, shit!” This tells you that the training starts early.
And I see that I am not the only Daddy who has had to grapple with this very issue. Read this fine post by MetroDad (tip o’ th’ Elisson fedora to Jay for the link) to see how another parent is progressing in this titanic struggle.
And be sure you have no liquid in your face as you read it. Them monitors is expensive.