THE POTTY MOUTH GANG

Is there a user age rating system for swear words?  I mean, shouldn't there be some sort of age laddering system for being able to use swear words, and maybe even possibly certain phrases, and tones of voices?  There is alot of foot and bike traffic by our house.  Being on the corner is sort of like having a bleacher seat at Wrigley Field - you see all the comings and goings of joggers, bikers, skate boarders, hoodlum wanna-bees, dog walkers, kids en route to somewhere usually in herds or small gaggles.  I have noticed a small, usually three-some of boys that appear to be around 8-10 years old that hang in a small posse - sometimes riding bikes, other times, walking.  Always though are they boisterous, overly cocky for their age, far beyond their stage of life in usage of profanity and disrespectful to adults/other kids/dogs and the insect world.  Having witnessed these kids' behavior up close and personal, I lovingly refer to them as, "The Potty Mouth Gang". When I was 8 or 9 years old I too recklessly road my bike everywhere.  Though I had no posse nor did I even think about being disrespectful to adults.  Shit was the only swear word that I really heard growing up and it was used in a more farm related manner than hard core swearing.  Yeah, yeah I know I am telling my age by referring to the younger generation as being ingrates and that the world just isn't what it used to be.  The thing is though, I think there have always been potty mouthed kids.  I just wasn't one of them.  Now, I may have gotten a slight touch of the potty mouth in my middle ages, but then again refer to my theory of age appropriate language:)  Damien (leader of the Potty Mouth Gang, and name that I have given him for reference purposes) and I first ran across each other when my husband and I were out walking one night.  He was bossing his small gang around as they rode bikes near us.  Not liking what his subordinates were doing he began to (remember he is 8-9 years old) call them mother fuckers.  Moving from that phrase he liberally poured the word fuck into every sentence he was screaming at them.  Quite honestly, we just stared - momentarily awestruck at what we were hearing.  There we stood, two adults in this kid's line of vision as he went on a fuck rampage as an 8 year old. Our presence did not discourage or intimidate him at all.  A few days later The Potty Mouth Gang leader, Damien, went by our house alone on his bike.  My husband was in the yard and watched him.  This brazen little bag of sass said to him, "Whatcha staring at?  Huh, whatcha staring at?  Whatcha staring at?"   Tonight they rolled by as I sat out, coincidentally writing this blog about them.  A newer member with them, Rudy (I just thought he looked like a Rudy), who had not been fully indoctrinated into their disrespectful ways, smiled at me and cheerfully said "Hi!".  I gleefully responded "hi" back hoping that he might not be drug into the depths of all things Potty Mouth Gang related.  I half expect one morning to arise to a grade school printed F chalked onto my driveway.  I will though try to infiltrate The Potty Mouth Gang and find a way to talk with Damien (I think really his name is Landon) through a popsicle, offering to pay him to rake my leaves or asking him why he loves that word so much.  That kid needs a bar of soap and I think a lot of love.  I have both:)