fuck that

I'm not sure if it was several second graders saying "shit" in class the other day or if it was Mr. Independent learning to say bird (bur!), but I've finally decided that Husband is right, and I need to stop swearing.
We were talking the other night-I was trying to describe exactly how angry a coworker had made me, but I couldn't get through it without dissolving into profanities, sort of like what happens when my parents are asked "Who is the current President?" At one point I used the word shitstorm.
Poopstorm, sweetie, say poopstorm, he corrected.
I gave him the finger. Mr. Independent laughed. But given his enjoyment of repetition, it's only a matter of time before he calls someone a cocksucker or motherfucker. While I'm sure it would be endearing-and hilarious-I guess I don't want my kid to be the kid who drops the f-bomb at daycare or in the middle of The Cheesecake Factory. I want to raise a polite, respectful child, and that starts with what I model to him.
So I'm done. Sadly. Swearing has been such a large part of my life since I was ten. I woke up one morning and for some unknown reason I decided to find out if something bad would actually happen if I said a bad word. Still safe under the covers, I whispered ass. When nothing happened, I whispered damn, and the other words followed soon after.
I have it better than what my mother went through with me. She told me recently that she knew she had to quit when I told my sister to stop her fucking crying because I'd had a really hard day. I was four.
So, I'm quitting. I am going to set a damn fine example for my boy.