Fooling one's kids

Just because a man becomes a father (a most virtuous and righteous position) doesn't mean that bad habit don't stay with him (despite the aforementioned righteousness). The bad habit in question? Bad language. How to combat its potentially negative impact one's children? Be a mentally nimble father able to handle any slips regarding language. In other words, learn to be a thesaurus for words that sound like the naughty word that one might have said.
The best example of this from my parenting experience happened four years ago. I was biking both boys (pulling them in a Burley Trailer) in a hail storm. Not surprisingly falling ice tends to make the ground slippery. My bike fell as we crossed over a train track (luckily not one still in use). I fell on my arm and broke it. Needless to say, this hurt a lot. But, we were about four miles from home, and biking was our way to get there. So, I biked. Let me tell you, biking with a broken arm hurts. A lot. At first, I tried to mentally psych myself up for the arduous journey. I imagined Tedy Bruschi (a former linebacker for the Patriots). He plays through the pain all the time, I reasoned; all I had to do was bike through the pain. Easier said than done. The pain was tremendous, and, try as I might to channel my inner Patriot, I am not a tough football player and could not become one as I biked in the hail with a broken arm. Every time I pedaled the pain in my arm throbbed through my entire body. I uttered a curse; shouted it, really. "_UCK!" I shouted. Unable to stop myself, I shouted the curse several more times. Now, despite the pain, I did not forget that I had to be the best stay-at-home father I can be (maybe I'm not tough football player, but certainly a tough stay-at-home dad). I had to do something to address my language. "Boys," I grunted through the pain as I biked, "did you guys hear daddy saying 'truck?' I said it because I'm in pain and need to be as strong as a truck." For the remainder of the painful journey, I repeatedly used the oath that rhymes with truck. Every few moments, I reminded the boys that I was saying truck "for strength." We made it back home. "Wow," I said, "saying 'TRUCK!' really helped me fight through the pain and get us home. Great, huh?" I hoped that my ruse would work. I didn't relish getting a call from the boys' school reporting their salty tongues.
And it did work. Big time. About eight months later, my wife and I were walking with my boys as they biked. My older son was ascending a particularly steep hill. Every strenuous pedal, he uttered something under his breath. He was trying to summon the strength to summit the hill. His words were nearly inaudible, meant for his ears alone. I leaned closer to him in an attempt to hear. "Truck, truck, truck," he was saying.
My younger son recently caught me uttering another oath that would not be welcome in most public settings. "Jeez," I said, "will you stop annoying your brother!" "'Jeez?'" my youngest said questioningly, "what's 'jeez'?" "No," I corrected him, "I said cheese. Some cheese, like blue or sharp cheddar, can be really strong. So, I often say 'cheese' when I want to emphasize something." Children can be vexing, and my boys are no different. Occasionally, events are so vexing that a stronger oath is warranted. Last week, after having asked my youngest to get dressed countless times, I lost it. "Jesus Christ!" I said, "can you please GET DRESSED!" As opposed to getting dressed, my boy looked at me. "'Jesus Christ'?" he repeated. I instantly pictured him saying "JESUS CHRIST!" in school, in the grocery store, on the street , during soccer games. It would not reflect well upon my parenting. I had to act quickly. "No," I said in as convincing a voice as I could muster, "I said 'CHEESE AND RICE!' Cheese on rice is a dressing. I was trying to encourage you to get dressed like 'cheese and rice.'" I'm not sure if he bought my explanation, but at least he hasn't offended anyone with his language.