I clearly remember my first experience with cussing. I was about seven years old, and my little sister had just hit the terrible twos. I still wasn’t used to not being an only child, and I was playing with my little sister in the living room floor. She took my beloved teddy bear named Pooh and started slobbering all over him, and pulling on his ears. I got mad and acted out of reflex. I shamelessly snatched the bear from her. She commenced to screaming at the top of her lungs. Of course, my mom told me to give the bear back to her. I wasn’t happy about that and I wasn’t going to give it back without a fight. The second time my mom told me to give it back, she was much sterner, but I didn’t listen. Finally, she yelled at me to give my sister the bear back. My response was unexpected for a seven year old, “Fine, I’ll give her the d@mn bear back!” My mom thought it was hilarious, she absolutely rolled. She called my aunts and uncles to tell them what I said. And even to this day, they don’t let me forget it.