The California State Assembly passed a resolution proclaiming this week “Cuss-Free Week.” What that means is that every Californian is being “encouraged” not to use profanity all this week. How do I know this? Because Jasmine told me. Jasmine is 9-years-old and the daughter of a close friend who’s a single mother. I spent the good part of this evening baby-sitting her while her mother was out at a business function and I soon learned that Jasmine’s teacher had told her about cuss-free week and that Jasmine decided it was the right time to confront me about my “cussing problem.”

“Uncle Phil,” she laid into me, “I think you cuss too much. I think it’s a real problem. It’s probably why you’re so old and you’re not married. Girls don’t like boys with dirty mouths.”

“Really?” I reply. I’m only half-listening to her; too busy surfing the web on my lap top.

“That’s why my mommy left my daddy,” Jasmine continues; oblivious to my pressing need to keep up with Angry Asian Man’s most recent posts. “He had a dirty mouth.”

“Well, that’s partly the reason. Jas, why don’t you go watch Ghostbusters (her favorite DVD) so I can finish up my work?”

She rolls her eyes and plops herself in front of the TV. I can hear Ray Parker Jr. singing the theme: “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts…”

But Jasmine’s not done talking. When I’m babysitting her, she never seems to be done talking. “Do you know what I would do if I were a ghost?” she asks rhetorically. “I’d come back and haunt Ray Parker Jr. Don’t you think he’s a big ass going around and always saying he’s not afraid of no ghosts? Well, I’d make sure he was scared. I’ll make him eat his words and he’ll be sorry.”

“Honey, you shouldn’t say ‘ass.’ Your mom’s going to think you got that from me.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say to you. You’re a bad influence on an innocent kid like me ‘cause you’re always cussing.”

Why do I get the feeling I’m about to be blackmailed by a 9-year-old girl?

“Promise not to cuss for the rest of the week,” she asks demands.

“How about if I promise to try?”

“Do or do not, there is no try.” (She also loves Yoda in the Star Wars films and often talks like him)

“Look, I can lie to you and promise not to cuss, but the reality is I respect you too much to do that. (She rolls her eyes again) I have a meeting tomorrow for this project I’m working on and another meeting later this week with a producer and I need the option to cuss.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes when adults need to make a strong point…it helps to be able to cuss. It…uh…otherwise I might seem too…uh, wimpy.” Oh God, I’m going to make such an awful parent.

Jasmine can’t contain herself anymore. She turns off the TV, stomps over to me and forcefully drags me away from my computer.

“What’s wrong with you?” She screams. She’s getting real emotional. “Do you want to die an old maid?!”

“I’m a man, I can’t be an old maid.”

“Whatever! Don’t try to confuse me. Your Jedi mind tricks won’t work with me. I’m too smart for your tricks, Mr. Bond!” (When did she start watching James Bond films?)

I think she’s really getting upset. I’m not sure exactly how to respond.

“If you keep cussing all the time, girls will think you’re angry and mean,” she says. “No one will want to go on a date with you and no one will want to marry you because of your bad attitude. You will be sad and lonely when you die.”

She’s genuinely concerned. I’m touched. “Honey, you don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“No, you can’t. You can’t even make a grilled cheese sandwich.”

“Come on, I didn’t burn it that bad.”

“It was like eating firewood after it’s been burned in the fireplace for 24 hours.”

“OK, I can’t cook, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. I mean that’s why God invented take-out Chinese food.”

Jasmine rolls her eyes again. But it looks like they’re getting…watery. Oh shit no, is she about to cry? Now I have to explain to her mom that I made her cry?

“Don’t cry, Jas,” I plead. “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t cuss this week.”

She wipes her eyes. A long pause. Then, this bombshell: “What if you married my mommy?”

Now I understand what this is all about. “You know your mommy and I were boyfriend and girlfriend a long time ago, before she met your daddy and you were born. And I love your mother very much still, but not in the husband and wife way, you know that, right?”

She nods. I know she’s had this talk with her mother before. “Your mommy is amazing and she deserves someone better than…she deserves someone…uh…who won’t burn your grilled cheese sandwich.” Man, I suck!

We talk some more about this. She seems to understand. She’s definitely mature for her age–a necessity when you’re being raised by a single mother struggling to provide for her only child.

“If mommy does find a new daddy, you’ll still come around, right?”

“Of course. I promised your mother before you were born that if you ever needed anything, I would be there to take care of you. And I always keep my promises, don’t I?”

She ponders this for a moment. “But don’t you think that was a stupid promise to make. What if I was born and I was annoying instead of charming?”

“Who told you that you were charming?”

“You did.”

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say to you–you’re old and losing your mind! If you had a wife, she would remember these things for you. But don’t change the subject, Mr. Bond–you made a promise not to cuss this week and you just said you always keep your promises so you can’t cuss.”

“I promise I won’t cuss, my little charming girl.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. We make popcorn and watch Ghostbusters for the next hour. I have to agree with Jasmine that Ray Parker Jr. is indeed an arrogant ass fool for going around proclaiming how he’s not afraid of no ghosts and how I too would return to haunt him if I were a ghost to teach him a lesson in humility.

She falls asleep before the movie is over and I carry her to her room and put her to bed. And while I watch her sleep, I think about how I’m going to keep my promise—what’ll I say to make my points at my meetings? What’ll I shout out when someone cuts me off on the freeway or I stub my toe because I’m clumsy? More importantly, what will I write about in my blogs for the rest of this week if I can’t use profanity?! (Sorry, no sex blogs for the rest of this week.) But a promise is a promise. I’ll find a way to keep it. I’m not about to let my little charming girl down.