Written by Alex Danielle Guerrero

Margie knew someday she would do the talk. Her friends told her she needs to prepare for it by the time her daughter, May, turns ten. That’s the age when kids come home asking their parents things they shouldn’t even know until they’re a teenager. Last month, Marites just did the talk and she had to argue with her son, “no, Jacob, when I said babies are gifts from God, they didn’t literally come from God, nor did God use Heaven edition Grab riders to deliver babies to their parents.” Margie remembers how Marites looked like she aged a century as she groaned, “I hope your talk doesn’t get crazier than mine.”

Contrary to her friends’ perceptions (because fuck them for thinking she doesn’t know what to do with May just because she became a mother at a young age), Margie has long prepared herself for the talk. She got the most honest but still-kid-friendly answers, the smoothest change-of-topic prompts, and the sickest counter-arguments that would be worthy of a mic drop. If she makes an organized summary of everything she came up with, she could make the perfect Doing the Talk: Flowchart Edition. Margie is beyond ready. When she realized she’s been blessed with a troublemaker demon of a daughter, she knew she had to be always ready.

Margie just did not expect how the talk would actually happen.

“Mommy, what does ‘fuck’ mean?”

Margie drops her pen on the desk. This is it. Time to shine. Before a grin starts to form on her face, Margie coughs and feigns a disappointed sigh. “May, where did you hear that?”

“From Jacob!”

Guess you’re not doing a good job, Marites, Margie smirks to herself. She turns to May and smiles. “Okay, baby girl. ‘Fuck’ is a bad word.”

“But ‘shit’ is also a bad word and it just means poop.”

Margie gasps, “You know ‘shit’?”

“Um, yeah. I heard it from Jacob.”

Curse, you Marites. May’s supposed to ask me about ‘shit’ first before ‘fuck’—

“So, mommy, what does ‘fuck’ mean?”

“Oh, umm, ‘fuck’ is a word only adults—like mommy—are allowed to say when something bad happens to them. It’s like,” Margie clicks her fingers, “‘shit.’ Yeah, ‘fuck’ is like ‘shit.’ It just means poop.”

May nods slowly. Margie smiles to herself. Not only did she give an almost true explanation, she also helped her daughter understand it’s not a word she can say until she’s old enough. Margie remembers there’s this reverse psychology thing when you tell kids not to do something, they’re more likely to do it. Thank God she didn’t go that route. Great job, Margie.

“Well, I just wanted to ask you because Jacob asked me what’s the meaning of it. He said he heard his father say it to his mom while they’re having fun in their bed last night.”

Margie chokes on her own spit.

“It’s strange that something bad happened when Jacob said his mother was giggling all night.” May turns on her heel, “Anyway, I’ll just tell him ‘fuck’ means poop and that Aunt Marites might have pooped on their bed.”

“Oh my god, May, no!”

May tilts her head, “Why? What did I do?”

“Mommy is not…being honest. ‘Fuck’ doesn’t literally mean ‘poop.’ Auntie Marites didn’t poop in their bed.”

“Then what did auntie do?” May tilts her head.

Margie bites her lip. Maybe diversion is not the right way to do this. Margie closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Okay, May, I will give you an advance lesson. But promise me, when I tell you this word is only for adults, you have to believe me and know you can only say it when you’re a bit older. If you say it outside this house, I will chase you with a hanger.”

May gulps then nods, “Okay, mommy.”

“So, May…the word ‘fuck,’ is said between two people in bed when they really, really love each other.”

“Oh, so it’s like ‘I love you’?”

“Umm, no, not really,” Margie nervously chuckles. “People say ‘fuck’ in bed when they really, really love each other…and they wanna have a baby.”

“Oooh! So, you say it during sex!”

Margie’s eyes shoot wide open. “May, you know what sex means?”

“Yeah! Jacob told me about it!”

Marites, what the fuck kind of parenting are you doing—

“Jacob told me he first thought babies came from Grab riders but thanks to his friend, Daniel, he now knows babies came from sex!”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Margie holds her daughter’s hands. She lets out another sigh, “Fine, you already know ‘sex,’ what more can you lose, right? So, remember what a verb is?” May nods with a grin.

“Okay, ‘fuck’ is a verb for sex. You say it when you want to have a baby.”

“How do you say it?”

Margie purses her lips and internally cries.

“How do you say it, mommy?” May repeats, squeezing her hands.

Margie blinks and looks at her daughter’s eyes. “May, I swear to God, if I catch you saying what I will say, I will grab you by the ear and—”

“Promise, mommy! I’ll never say it outside the house. Just tell me how you say it.”

“Fine. An example of ‘fuck’ in a sentence is…‘I wanna F you.’ Now replace that ‘F’ with ‘fuck’.”

“I wanna fuck you.”

“Jesus Christ, May!” Margie claps a hand over her daughter’s mouth

May shrugs off her mother’s hand, frowning, “You said I replace the ‘F’ with ‘fuck’!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t say you have to say it aloud!” Margie releases a frustrated huff. “May, from now on, you’re not allowed to say ‘fuck.’ You’re only gonna refer to it as the ‘F word’, understand?”

“Yes, mommy.”

Margie cards a hand through her hair as she turns back to her desk. She doesn’t care anymore; all her plans are ruined. Reverse psychology can go eat shit.

“Did daddy use the F word to you?”

Margie sighs and nods.

“And since the F word is a verb, does that mean it has a noun version like…fucker?”

Margie just nods again.

“So does that mean daddy is a motherfucker?”

Margie has never whipped her head around so fast in her life. “May, where the hell did you learn that word?!”

“…Jacob.”

Margie presses a tired hand over her face. “You know what, May? Just tell Jacob his mom pooped on the bed.”

Epilogue

“Can you believe it? Your daughter called you a motherfucker! And she’s just ten!”

“I mean, she isn’t wrong. You’re a mother and I did fuck you.”

“Oh, fuck you.”