We can’t tell him not to shout ‘Jesus Christ!’ just because it’s rude
Our son is defending himself against the crime of blasphemy. A magnet had fallen off the fridge and met the floor with a startling crack, causing him to shout, ‘Jesus Christ!’
‘Language!’ we say, with disapproving voices. If I’m honest, mine is actually my dad’s voice. I can’t help it. I’ve never really developed a disciplinary mode of my own, so any time I need to admonish my children it’s him that comes out, unbidden and full-throated, with a tinge of his Fermanagh brogue to make its source even more mortifyingly obvious. My wife, too, has a similar affliction, inflecting her most authoritatively maternal barbs with hints of her mum’s native Carlow. There we stand, a Derryman and a Dubliner in London, so unused to confrontation we can only raise our voices using accents we’ve never had.
Continue reading… We can’t tell him not to shout ‘Jesus Christ!’ just because it’s rudeOur son is defending himself against the crime of blasphemy. A magnet had fallen off the fridge and met the floor with a startling crack, causing him to shout, ‘Jesus Christ!’‘Language!’ we say, with disapproving voices. If I’m honest, mine is actually my dad’s voice. I can’t help it. I’ve never really developed a disciplinary mode of my own, so any time I need to admonish my children it’s him that comes out, unbidden and full-throated, with a tinge of his Fermanagh brogue to make its source even more mortifyingly obvious. My wife, too, has a similar affliction, inflecting her most authoritatively maternal barbs with hints of her mum’s native Carlow. There we stand, a Derryman and a Dubliner in London, so unused to confrontation we can only raise our voices using accents we’ve never had. Continue reading… Family, Parents and parenting, Life and style
