Watch Your Language

It is a phenomena I begrudgingly accept; the infiltration of strange words into the vernacular of teenagers.

Where things were once “ace”, they are now “dope”.

When something looked “cool” it is now “on fleek”.

Even “LOL”, pronounced “el oh el”, has not only morphed from Lots Of Love into Laughing Out Loud, it is no longer an acronym you spell out, but has transmogrified into a word of it’s own.

Pronounced “lol”.

I can cope with most of it, but every now and again something will sneak in through my front door, and be expelled from the mouth of my eldest.

“What’s with the discourse?” he said, which only set me off on one of my Watch Your Language Rants.

“Do you know what that word means?” I enquired.

“Yeah. What’s with the discourse?”

“Please do not ever use words out of context with me,” I remind him. “If you know what it means, use it accordingly.”

“What’s with the discourse? It’s just a word, you know. Like when you say “dope” or “on fleek”. It’s just a word that we use for things, like a word. Chill on the discourse.”

“Please. Do. Not. Use. Words. Out. Of. Context,” I explain.

Again.

The conversation went on, including the extraction of his definition of discourse (it’s a conversation) and my correcting his almost, but not quite, correct description (it’s a conversation, but around a particular topic or used to sway a particular belief or value).

“So, if you are going to use it, please use it correctly.”

More smartarse rhetoric from the sixteen year old, designed to rile me up further. There are some things I cannot but help myself to react when the right button is pushed.

“Stop it. You are to use words correctly, and you have raped that word,” I tell him, whilst giving him A Look that is the step before he gets The Look.

“Ha!” he says. “You just used the word “raped” out of context and incorrectly.”

“Did not!”

“Did so!”

“Did not. You have raped the word.”

“What does raped mean, Mum? See, you just used the word incorrectly.”

“You fucked it without it’s consent,” I informed him.

And in a very, very rare turn of events, he was left speechless for quite a long number of moments.

“Yeah. Okay then. You can leave my room now.”

He has not since ever questioned me about my “discourse”.

He’s asked why I’m salty, and, the latest, why I’m snake.

But never again about the discourse.

So, there.

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