I love the conversations between my 7-year-old daughter and me. She’s very thoughtful and funny, and she’s quite articulate. We’ve had some fairly deep talks about all kinds of things; I love hearing her opinions on a variety of topics.
Most of the time.
The other day she called me out on the carpet. I’d picked her up from after-school care, and we were riding along in silence. She must have been contemplating deep and serious thoughts, because suddenly she spoke.
AUTUMN: Mommy, you said you don’t swear. But you swear all the time.
ME: [slightly indignant] What? I do not!
AUTUMN: Yes you do!
ME: Really. When do I do all this swearing?
AUTUMN: One time you said a bad word when you and Charis were arguing.
ME: Well, that’s just one time …
AUTUMN: You said a bad word another time when you and daddy were arguing.
ME: Um … that was a while ago–
AUTUMN: And I spilled something once and you said a bad word …
Wow, she remembers that?
ME: [slightly defensive] … Still, that’s not all the time. That’s only three times!
AUTUMN: But you said you don’t swear …
ME: I did say that, didn’t I. And if I don’t swear, then swearing even once means I lied, doesn’t it.
Convicted. By a 7-year-old. Again.
ME: You’re right. I’m sorry for lying. And I’m especially sorry I said a bad word when you spilled something.
AUTUMN: It’s okay.