Double standard

The time has come to explain to Biscuit why some people can do something things that he can't do.

Yeah, I know. Good luck with that, right?

Yesterday, as Biscuit and I were shopping, a girl and her boyfriend were looking at stuff on the same aisle we were on.

"I'll kick your butt!" the girl said to her boyfriend.

I saw it coming. Biscuit's eyes got big and before I could shush him, he said, "MOM! What did she say? Did you hear what she said?"

"Ssshhhh," I said as I put my finger up to my lips.

I hauled us out of there and went over about two aisles. Then I leaned down close to Biscuit's face so he could hear me.

"I heard what that girl said," I told Biscuit.

"Mom, she said 'butt,' and we're not supposed to say 'butt,'" Biscuit said (not seeming to understand that he had just said that word twice!).

"Well, not saying that word is our rule," I tried to explain. "And other people don't have to follow our rules. Just us. Do you understand that?"

"Yeah, Mom," Biscuit said. "It was not nice for her to say that word. If she says it again, she'll get in trouble."

Ugh. This was harder than I thought it would be.

"Well, if YOU said that word, you'd be in trouble," I said. "But that girl has to listen to her own Mom's rules. Her Mom might not care if she says that word."

"Where is her Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"I don't know, baby," I said.

"Are you going to tell her Mom what she said?" Biscuit asked.

"No," I said. "I don't know her Mom. But I'm your Mom, and I want you to obey the rules Dad and I make, okay?"

"Okay, Mom," Biscuit said. "I will."

I don't think for a second that Biscuit understood what I told him, but maybe if even part of sunk in, we'll be one step in the right direction.

But it's one thing to explain that our rules don't apply to a stranger. But recently, I had to justify why I didn't follow our rules.

Biscuit and I were on the way to day care, and he was telling me a story about some firefighters.

"And then the one firefighter fell down," Biscuit said, "and he hurt his leg. And when he hurt his leg, he said, 'Oh my God!'"

"Hey!" I said. "Don't say that."

"Why, Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"You can say 'Oh my gosh' but I don't want you saying 'Oh my God,'" I said.

"But Mom," Biscuit said. "What did you say to Dad when he forgot to give me a bath?"

Well, I certainly didn't want to admit it to him, but I did say, "Oh my God." I have a really bad habit of saying that. 

It might sound like I'm overreacting, but I just don't like the sound of that coming out of my child's mouth. My brother and I weren't allowed to say that when we were growing up, and somewhere along the line, I picked it up as a common phrase. Now, I'm backtracking.

So I said to Biscuit, "I think I did say that to Dad. And you know what? I was wrong to do that. I won't say it again if you won't say it, either. Is it a deal?"

"Yep. It's a deal," Biscuit said.

I know these two examples probably pale in comparison to some of the conversations we'll have to have in the future. I can only hope that Jeff and I can stay consistent and take them as they come.