Tim is currently at a stage of his development which I shall probably enjoy remembering later - because it is over. Let's call it the "farty phase", which appears to be part and parcel of every child’s drawn out process of language acquisition. Every rapper in Berlin is an aesthete when compared to my son.
In the mornings, when Tim tramples over my legs into my bed, he joyfully shouts "Helloooo fart face"! But I am not a fart face, I am his father. And I make that quite clear to him. Needless to say that for his mother he also has some very special literary creations at his fingertips ... most of these creations are based on bodily orifices and excretory processes. That’s not very pleasant.
Why can't he invent nicknames which we like? Why doesn't he just call me "flower dad"? The kindergarten teacher deemed this normal when I approached her on the matter. I don't care, so I decided to courageously counter my son's behaviour and to impose punishment for swear words if need be.
However, I unfortunately lack sufficient authority to implement this. I am not particularly good at punishing. Moreover, a psychologist once told me that small children do not understand punishment as such anyway. It just doesn't help! Actually, keeping to sanctions is tougher on the parents than on their children, especially the enforcement of a TV ban. Would you keep that up stringently on a Sunday morning at 8 am? No? See what I mean? So I decided to play it by ear.