An early lesson

When I was about three I was outside on a porch banging on a screen door wanting to go back in the house while my mother and aunt were busy preparing food in the kitchen. I grew frustrated as they ignored me. Finally I cursed at her, something like, “Let me in you son of a bitch of a mommy”. That got immediate results. I found myself unceremoniously dragged inside to the kitchen sink and my mouth washed out with disgusting tasting soap and not gently at all while being admonished to never talk to her like that again. I never did. They didn’t mess around in those days.