Last night we went to a hockey game. For someone who doesn't really like sports, I am surprisingly loud at sporting events. (To be fair, I do really like athletes...)
A goal was scored and the crowd did the "We're going to beat the crap out of you! You! You, you, you!" cheer. Big Kid looked over at me in shock.
"Did you just say the c-word??" he asked. "Is that what they say?"
"Crap? Eh, it's not really the c-word. It's not really a bad word, just an impolite and usually inappropriate one--but the rules are a little different at sporting events. You shouldn't walk around using that word but if you want to do the cheer with the crowd tonight, I'm cool with that."
He looked shocked. And conflicted. And pleased.
Our team scored again and Big Kid and I pumped our fists in the air and joined the crowd in the cheer together.
We got up to go to the bathroom between periods and he said, "You know what? It feels a little bit good to curse. I mean, I don't want to be the kind of guy who curses and I don't want to hear little kid talking like that," (little kid was thankfully absent for the above-mentioned conversation and never picked up on the words of the chant), "but sometimes it feels good to be a little bit bad. You know?"
"Yeah, I know. Just know the right time to be bad, you know?"
"Uh, yeah, I'm not gonna be walkin' around using the c-word. Don't worry."
I'm not worried. And that's why I let him do it.
(And why little kid might never be allowed.)