I have this little problem.
My children haven't yet learned to be politically correct. Well, they're only five and six years old so I suppose the political part is bollocks anyway. Combine this with the usual age-related fascination with bodily parts and functions and yep.... it's pretty much a recipe for bloody disaster! My youngest is the worse offender, especially anything that involves bums,willy's, boobs, skin colour, race and such like. She's like a dog with a bone.Trouble is, she has a rather wickedly good sense of humour.
I have a good friend who is black, and until recently I hadn't even thought about my children's reaction to skin colour because the subject has never come up. Well not until she opened the door to him one night recently and blurted out " Oh it's you, I couldn't see you outside in the dark!" Now, I'm sure that she's never even heard the joke and thank god he wasn't offended, but I wanted the floor to open up. I'm sure you all know the feeling. Anyway, it actually got worse because later that evening I had to stop her following him to the bathroom. I patiently explained that it's not polite to follow guests to the bathroom (even though in our house we three girls all barge in on each other). The little minx looked me in the eye and replied oh-so-matter-of-factly "But mum, I only wanted to check what colour willy he has!"....
Here's her latest repertoire of social faux-pars.
Last week the little darling gleefully informed me that she "could see the postman's hairy bum". He was handing me my post at the time. Actually we could both see the postman's bum because he'd dropped a letter, bent down to retrieve it and exposed rather more than one might have wished over the top of his trousers. Damn it, I will now have to wear a wig and sunglasses when visiting the village post office.
Then this week she asked the new and really nice, shy young barista in our local cafe what colour underpants he was wearing! He went a strange shade of puce and handed me my coffee with a look of complete terror dancing about his face. I strongly suspect he may have been going commando - but that's pure conjecture on my part. Thank god I'd ordered a take-away I thought as I swiftly frog-marched her outside to run through the rules of social decorum yet again. Trouble is, that I just know from the look in her eye that this time the question she posed was not an innocent enquiry. Oh no. The twinkle of mischief in her eye gave it all away. She knew exactly how embarrassing she was being.
Last Sunday, I really thought we had reached a turning point. The three of us had been invited out to sail on a friends boat. Now I crew regularly on this boat with a really lovely guy - who has only one leg........ What to do? The girls really wanted to sail. I really wanted to sail. But could I trust the little one NOT to mention the leg?? I briefed both of them fully. Do as you are told, always hold on with one hand, stay away from the boom and for god's sake DONT MENTION THE BLOODY MISSING LEG! Both nodded sagely in agreement. We went sailing. They were both perfectly behaved all day - an absolute credit. I was so proud of them. As we moored the boat and were walking back along the jetty with the rest of the crew at the end of the day I told them how proud I was. The little one looked up at me beaming with pride and said in her loudest voice "Does that mean I can ask to look at his missing leg now then?"
Today though, I think she truly hit her peak. We had been standing watching a group of surfers going through their paces in the surf. A little later they got out of the water and walked past myself and my daughters on their way to dry off. My youngest had been watching very intently, and with perfect timing as they passed by she blurted out "Mum, how does that man with the great big willy get it inside his wet suit?"
It's all our own fault. You see, we tell our children to always tell the truth. We teach our children to be inquisitive, to learn and be creative. THAT"S WHY LITTLE KIDS CANT POSSIBLY BE PC.
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