One weekend morning last month, I was drinking my coffee in the living room alongside 6-year-old and 10-month-old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My big kid was coloring, and the baby was perfectly still, watching her sister. I actually didn’t realize my youngest was capable<\/strong> of sitting that still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Look at her watching you,” I said. “She’s learning by watching you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n She was quiet for a couple seconds as she finished coloring a unicorn in rainbow colors. Then: “Did I learn by watching you?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Sure,” I smiled, taking a sip of my coffee. “Tell me something you learned by watching your mommy.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “How to say bad words.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was expecting to hear “The Alphabet Song,” or “how to brush my teeth,” or at least “the basic concept of Pinterest<\/a>.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n But no.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In my child’s mind, my most notable<\/strong> contribution to preparing her for the world is the fine art of cursing. Bloody hell.<\/p>\n\n\n