I swear                            

I swear too much.
I know this now that
my daughter is talking.

She’s like a parrot that follows
me around waiting to repeat
whatever comes out of my mouth.

She was building a tower with
her legos and singing to herself.
When it fell over, she said, “Oh Dammit!”
“Scout,” I said, “What did you just say?”
“Oh Dammit!  Like you say Mama.”
Her pediatrician told me to ignore it
and to stop swearing around her.

I swear the most when I’m driving.
I learned this from my daughter
when we were stuck behind another
car trying to make a green light.
My husband said, “C’mon, move it!”
Then the parrot perched high on her
backseat throne chirped, “Move it fucker!”
I followed doctor’s orders and ignored it.
My husband looked at me then back at our daughter
and asked, “Well, who taught you to say that?” 
Bursting with pride, she replied,
“Mommy did!”