Second-tier words

I've never been much of a swearer, certainly as far as Irish people go. I mean, we don't all swear like rock stars, but profanity is to a certain extent more of an everyday event in Ireland than it is in America. At least, it was when I lived there, and when I wasn't in the presence of my parents (who are just not the sort of people you would ever swear in front of: my Dad's worst possible words are Blast and Damn); but that was before I had kids.

Since becoming parents, we've both cleaned up our language to positively spotless: when riled I'll admit to letting fly a "sugar" or perhaps even "flip". (Oh, all right. Sometimes - three times a day or so - the four-year-old elicits a muttered "Jesus Christ". I'm not a saint. It's ironic, really, that the reason you don't swear is also the reason you most want to.)

But then there are the second-tier words: the ones that while not actually bad, are not in the first line of vocabulary you'd want to use in front of the queen. Or the nuns. Mostly those amusing little words like fart and snot. Such words were never required in my house: burping was about as inelegant as bodily functions got, once I was potty trained.

But this house is not my parents' house, and I want my children to be comfortable talking about what happens in the bathroom and elsewhere. Besides, I have a boy. And while I'm all for correct biological terms for body parts, I don't feel the need to make a meal of words and phrases like mucous and saliva and passing gas when there are perfectly good and simpler words available. As a bonus, it's pretty cute when a two-year-old comes up to you and says "I'm 'notty. I need a tissue," or answers your query as to whether she's pooey with a nonchalant "No, I just farting."