Tennessee Mom Fights To Keep First Amendment Rights

When I think back to just one year ago, I’m reminded of a time of free expression- a time when I didn’t have to watch my back every time I opened my mouth. Alas, those days are gone and in their place I have been left with fear and intimidation.
“What kind of person could illicit such fear and anxiety from a grown woman?” you ask. Allow me to introduce you to Luke Wescott. While not quite four years old, this sly and stealthy son of mine has the ability to be everywhere at once. And, if there were a town called Bad Wordville, he’d be the mayor.
I walked through the living room yesterday morning with my coffee cup in hand. Luke was tucked away in his bedroom playing with his trains, and I only left him long enough to go downstairs for a quick refill. I was approaching the staircase when I stepped on one of his toys and lost my balance. I caught myself before falling, but as a result I spilled my coffee everywhere.
“$#!*,” I muttered under my breath. No sooner had I gotten the word past my lips did Luke emerge from the very next room. He darted around the corner with such gusto that his sock feet slid two or three feet across the floor before coming to a stop.
“Oooh Moooom, you said a bad word. I’m gonna call Dad at CVS and tell him, and you’re gonna get soap in your mouf. You better not say dat again in your whole wife. You unnastand me?”
“Yes, ok. I’m sorry, but you know what, honey? Moms can say words that kids can’t say.”
“No, it’s still a bad word. Dat’s a time out, Mom.”
I was clearly not getting anywhere with my argument so I sat on the stairs for a few minutes to think about what I had done. I wasn’t one bit sorry, though. Adults should be allowed to use four-letter words. I began thinking about how much I would love to debate him on the matter. I would totally win and have the support of Moms everywhere by arguing that parents should have the right to use their “power words” whenever they deemed it appropriate. The fact that my opponent couldn’t pronounce his L’s wouldn’t hurt my case either. I know that may be hitting below the belt, but I fight dirty…damn darn it.

20 to Life (With Time Off for Sharing)

Brace yourselves because I’m about to drop a bomb. Luke received his first time-out in preschool this week. It’s taken me several days to come to terms with this enough to write about it. Where did he learn that it was ok to spit? (I blame rap music.)
Believe me when I say that the buck stops here. Today’s time-out is tomorrow’s juvey, and we all know there’s nothing hokey about the pokey.