Sometimes I may have a bit of a potty mouth, I’ll admit. I didn’t grow up this way. I can vividly remember the innocent times when I was learning to read and write, feeling the words of life form in my head and come out in text. I would look at every Dr. Seuss book we owned, willing the scramble of letters to make sense and eventually, after memorizing Hop on Pop, feeling elated when I knew what the pages said front to back. Certainly nary a naughty word crossed my head at such a tender age.

As a young child I lived in the countryside on acres of land from an old homestead. Remnants of a past life were found in the lingering traces of stone foundations, a boarded-over well and dilapidated chicken coop. My siblings and I would play in the copse of trees where the ancient house once stood, climbing branches to build forts high above the ground.

In summer we’d gather fruit from the orchard, dashing to beat the birds to the best cherries and outrace the cattle to the mealy apples lingering low on the branches. We spent many an afternoon riding bicycles and staving off the afternoon heat in the mucky stream.

This idyllic childhood setting is where I first learned that not all words were meant to be said.

One ordinary afternoon of exploring the old remains with my eldest brother, I accidentally stepped into my first curse word. In trying to show off my newfound linguistic skills, I was maneuvering the letters around in my name and sounding them out. With a four letter name like Dawn there is only so many words you can create. Unless you flip the “w” over into an “m”. In doing this, I found a whole new set of sounds.

Excitement bubbled up inside me at this discovery and led me to joyously shout across the small glen… “damn!!”. To which followed a mortified grimace and sharp reprimand from my respected sibling. Having been quickly admonished without explanation that I was to never, ever utter that word again, I was left in pained confusion and embarrassment.

Years later during a random car ride with my teenage children and spouse I was given the second grammatical shock of my life. We were driving along merrily when out of my daughter’s mouth came an ugly word.

Not being a parent of particularly strict boundaries but rather an encourager of creativity, I had engendered an open environment with my children…but drew the line at vulgarity. A quick reprimand to my daughter brought about confusion and peals of laughter in the car. A heated discussion found me on the losing side …”piss” is not a cuss word, they insisted. To which I could not agree!!

So much did I heartily dissent that I phoned my mother that very moment to inquire. The hilarity that ensued as my mom informed me that no, piss is not a cuss word, had my children and husband in stitches for days…and me rather chagrined!

Nowadays, my children are adults in their own right and the foul words flow much more freely. I wish I could tell that 6 year old Dawn who lost a little bit of her innocence as she played amongst the ruins that day that as mortified as she was then, it would be nothing compared to choir of laughter from her own children years later!!