Dad, You Are a Mother*#@&%$

My son was in first grade when he approached me with this little gem from recess at school. We sent our son to a private school, thinking they would be sheltered from these activities. The truth is, our kids are not sheltered anywhere. Someone will find a way to get at them, whether we like it or not. This next section is going to be really obscene, so please bare with me. It is crucial for the article.

Everything seemed normal when I got there to pick him up. I was there about 15 minutes before he got out of class, waiting for him to rush out the side door. Of course, he was not the first child to appear. This was the first time I had ever been able to pick my son up out of school, so I was ecstatic. I would finally get to catch a glimpse of my son's everyday life. My wife and I were divorced, at the time, and I had to fight tooth and nail to gain any visibility with my son. However, after about eight months of fighting in the courts, the courts finally sided in my favor. I would finally be able to pick my son up from school. You never really realize how great it is to be able to pick them up, until you are no longer allowed to see them whenever you want. It is a real shock to the system. The kids flooded out through the doors. The school, itself, educated children from kindergarten to sixth grade.

I did not see my son exit the building, because he exited through another door. So, he ended up startling me a bit. He got in and welcomed me with a hug, through his bookbag in the back seat, and finally latched his seatbelt. We were off. I always looked forward to my weekend visitation. He was quiet for a little while, when he finally turned to me and said, "dad, I have to ask you a question. I heard some kids talking at school."

"Yes, go ahead, lay it on me. We can see if I have an answer for you," I replied.

"They said you are a mother fucker, they said all dads are motherfuckers, does that mean you fuck mom?"

The bombs were dropped, but they were so innocent I could not find fault with what he repeated. My mind whirled, what do I tell him, how do I tell him. I had to say something, he was waiting. I blurted, "son, do not ever say that. Those are bad words. I know you do not know what the 'f' word means. All I can tell you, right now, is that you should never repeat these words in public."

"So what does it mean?"

Great, now what, I did not want to have to explain it, now I did not have a choice. I was backed into a corner. "When a man loves a woman, they make love. That is all. Yes, your mom and dad loved one another," was my response.

"But you and mom do not love each other now, so you cannot be what they say you are. Right?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"Why don't you and mom love each other any more?"

"It is not like that. I still love your mom, because she gave me the best gift any man could ever receive. She gave me you, we just do not get along the way we used to, that's all. I will always have love in my heart for you and your mom, for that reason."

"Oh, I still do not understand," he shook his head.

I could not help smiling at him, he was so adorable. "Someday, son, you will understand. I promise! You do not need to think about it. So, how was your day?"

This was the first time I ever felt like I had really done or said something good for my son. It was important to emphasize issues regarding his mother, while at the same time providing him with some vague notion about what he heard. First, he received an honest answer. These were profane words. Second, he gained some understanding toward what they meant. Finally, he needed to know that I cared not only for him, but for his mother as well.