In third grade, our kids still thought the F-word was fart.Īlas, they grew up. No four-letter words in our house! We lasted longer than I would have thought possible. As gay dads at a time when gay families were still relatively rare, my husband and I felt the pressure to be model parents. But that fantasy ended as soon as the twins could talk. Never mind an asshole or even a bitch.Īs for our family, I’d originally envisioned a more bohemian lifestyle, with midnight dinners and toddlers who swore like sailors. That was 12 titles ago, and I haven’t included a single damn since. Who could object? It stayed until the Scholastic Book Club demanded I take it out-or else they’d take my book off their very lucrative list. The first book I wrote, The Name of This Book Is Secret, I put the word damn in it. But it has made me think about the words I choose to use and not use-about the good words and the bad.Īs a children’s author and the father of twins, I excel at censoring myself.
The law, which prohibits discussion of sexual orientation and gender identity in a manner that is not “developmentally appropriate,” is deliberately, devilishly vague.
Just look at the T-shirts and protest signs: “#SayGay” is the new “We’re here. I’ve never wanted to say it more.įlorida’s infuriating “Don’t Say Gay” law has given new power to an old word.
