“Do they even know that kids exist?” asked Emily, my sweet 8-year-old step-daughter.
I treat her as if she is my biological child, but I reference her as my step-daughter here for a specific reason. It was almost a year ago that I became a parent, and it’s been an interesting transition. Throughout my adult life, I was a single man with a dog and no kids. I could basically do and say whatever I wanted without any ramifications.
Occasionally, Lucy and I will let a “bad word” slip out around Emily’s innocent ears, but she is quick to call us out on it. We tend to brush it off, tell her we’re sorry, and that it’s no big deal. It happens from time to time. We’re human. It can happen, but I hope it happens less often.
Last week, I was listening to a local country radio station while driving her home from school. One of the songs had a “bad word” in it, and Emily quickly took note.
“They said a bad word,” she said. “It’s not a big deal,” I replied. “They say that word everywhere now.” Her reply will live with me forever. “Do they even know that kids exist?” she asked with a perplexed look.