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So the other day at breakfast my five-year-old asked one of those big questions. You know… Not about the birds and the bees. Not the meaning of existence. No. Something far more dangerous. We were sitting at the kitchen table. Very calm. Very normal. Kids eating. I was enjoying one of those rare parenting moments where no one was screaming, crying, or asking for snacks that we absolutely did not have. Then my daughter looks up and says: “Mom?” “Yes?” “Why can’t we say fuck or shit?” Now listen. There are moments in parenting where you have to maintain composure. This was one of those moments. Because the way she said it… Perfectly calm. Perfect pronunciation. Just dropped both words like she was asking why clouds exist. Meanwhile I’m gripping my coffee mug trying not to laugh like a 13-year-old boy who just heard his first swear word.  I look at her. She’s just sitting there. Waiting. Like she asked a completely reasonable question. Which honestly… she did. ...