One of the Greatest Perks of Your Kids Growing Up: The Freedom to Swear (Of Course)

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The beauty of cursing, with all its shades and meanings, is truly remarkable.

My child was just four years old when he uttered his first curse. Buckled in the back seat of our car, he noticed my frustrated groan after I missed a green light while rushing to an important appointment. “What’s wrong?” he asked. I sighed and explained, “We’re going to be late, and Mommy has strong feelings.”

“Oh,” he replied, popping a goldfish cracker into his mouth before perfectly delivering, “Damn.”

Among the many memories of his early childhood, this moment stands out as a time I felt like a failure. My ideal image of a good mom didn’t include such language, so I consciously eliminated curse words from my vocabulary, opting instead for watered-down phrases to express my frustration whenever I stubbed my toe (Ouch, my foot hurts!) or forgot to defrost dinner (Whoa! I completely forgot about the chicken… drat).

This shift was deliberate but felt insincere, like I was using an ellipsis instead of the necessary exclamation marks. For a while, I noticed my son mimicking my sanitized approach to expressing big emotions. When a carefully constructed tower of blocks tumbled down, his hazel eyes would flash with anger, and he would react with tiny fists raised, exclaiming, “Oopsie Daisies! It broke!”

It was like I had a miniature Ned Flanders living in my home.

Now that he’s a tween, he’s checking off all the boxes of adolescence: he’s more reserved, and his need for personal space has grown. Conversations that were once free-flowing have turned into closed doors. Yet, when we navigate this new terrain of communication, a well-placed curse word can bridge the gap. It becomes our common language.

“It’s so fucking hard,” he said one day, lying face down on the floor, the same spot where he had countless meltdowns as a toddler. Whether discussing school pressure, sibling squabbles, or the weight of life, he captures his feelings perfectly. Peeking out from behind his arm, he seems to ask, “Am I in trouble?”

With all the warmth of a mom liberated from euphemisms, I respond, “Yes, I’m really sorry it’s so fucking hard.”

Cursing, in all its forms, can be cathartic. Studies, such as one by psychologist Richard Stephens from Keele University, show that swearing enhances pain tolerance. Participants who used expletives during painful tasks could endure longer than those limited to gentle words like “oopsie.”

Swearing can boost our resilience when life gets chaotic. But let’s face it: it’s not exactly acceptable for kids to drop the F-bomb. I still remember the trouble Ralphie got into in “A Christmas Story” for uttering the “queen mother of dirty words” while helping his dad fix a tire. The fear of having to eat soap looms large, and I struggle to curse in front of my parents.

With my tween son, I want our communication to be straightforward and free from social constraints. I explain that there are no “bad” words, discussing their meanings and histories—even the ones that might make our grandparents cringe. In these exchanges, he opens up, transforming back into a conversationalist willing to share his feelings. No longer is he the preschooler appeased by cutesy euphemisms.

By accepting curse words as genuine expressions of our emotions, I validate his humanity, uncensored. And in return, he acknowledges mine.

One day, overwhelmed by the pressures of parenting in a pandemic, he found me crying in the kitchen.

“I’m having a tough day,” I shared, stressing every syllable.

“Oh,” he said, stepping closer. “That’s so fucking hard.”

In that moment, I felt completely understood.

Jenna Hartman is a writer, mother, and athlete. She explores themes of identity, parenting, and more.

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In summary, as children grow, the ability to communicate freely—sometimes through swearing—can lead to deeper connections. It allows for honest conversations that validate both their feelings and ours, bridging the gap between parent and child.