ANNABEL FENWICK ELLIOTT: Why I let my four-year-old son use the F-word. And I urge you all to, too

‘F*** off, fly.’ That was the phrase my four-year-old son used, perfectly innocently, on his first day at nursery last summer, which got me summoned for my first ‘chat’ with a teacher since I was a child myself.

I say innocently because in our house swear words aren’t bad. We sprinkle them liberally across our everyday parlance. They are never used as insults or directed at one another, but only ever to underline a point (the traffic was a f***ing nightmare) or at inanimate objects (‘f***’, to a table, when you’ve just stubbed your toe on it). Or indeed, in the case of my son, in reference to bothersome insects.

I have never trusted people who find curse words shocking, as if they possessed some sort of black magic. My grandmother grew up in an Irish convent where she was taught it was evil to swear. She still had a potty mouth, God rest her soul, but she felt profoundly guilty about it and that was a shame. I wasn’t allowed to swear when I was growing up, either.

So I still remember the joy and relief I felt when, as a teenager, I first heard someone I respected speak sense on the matter. ‘Swearing is a really important part of one’s life,’ Stephen Fry said in a BBC interview.

‘It would be impossible to imagine going through life without swearing and without enjoying swearing. The sort of twee person who thinks swearing is in any way a sign of a lack of education or a lack of verbal interest tends to have the smallest vocabulary.’

Ever since then I’ve taken pleasure in it, no matter the consequences. Thankfully my husband agrees and it’s a value we will continue to instil in our children. There are many awful things in this world to warn them against. Four-letter words are not one of them.

Jasper’s teacher was probably somewhat baffled when she informed me, in a hushed voice, that he’d used ‘the F-word’. I asked if he had said it to another child (which would have been a big problem), and she said no, it was addressed to a fly he was swatting, so I said: ‘Phew, that’s OK then.’ We had a very reasonable discussion about context, and the situation was defused. I loved that nursery, for the record.

I did have to explain to Jasper that lots of grown-ups – and teachers especially – were likely to tell him off for using certain words, and that if he didn’t like being told off, he’d best keep those words for home-use only. Not because he was doing anything wrong, but because the rules of society don’t always make sense.

I fear it won’t end here, however. I have the utmost admiration for teachers, and the difficult jobs they have. At the same time, I don’t believe we should always blindly conform to authority, and I want my children to understand that, too.

I was interested, therefore, to see an interview with Victoria Beckham this week, in which she revealed her daughter Harper once begged her to call her school after she was banned from wearing ‘natural’ make-up. Victoria refused.

Why shouldn’t a teenage girl be permitted to use a little foundation at school? Even more so if she’s self-conscious of acne. As a woman in the workplace, she’ll be expected to apply make-up every day for the rest of her adult life. Just look at the world’s reaction when Pamela Anderson decided at the age of 56 to step into the spotlight with a bare face. It wasn’t kind.

But contraband lippy and the occasional F-bomb are hardly the only nonsensical aspects of school today – homework is another. Even as a child I found it barbaric and refused to partake, no matter how many times I got yelled at.

Why are we forcing exhausted young humans – who are expected to sit still and focus all day at school as we cram their brains with facts – to get home, shut themselves away and do more work? They should be encouraged to rest and recuperate, and to spend quality time with their families. If adults bring their paperwork home after office hours and continue to slave away off the clock, we call them workaholics.

There are plenty more things I find ridiculous about how we educate our children (don’t get me started on teaching them about algebra and long division instead of budgeting and the stock market) but Jasper is still too young for me to wage these battles.

So far the most anarchic thing I’ve done since he entered big school (aside from sanctioning swearing) is refuse to buy him the standard school PE uniform, because it’s polyester and I don’t believe we should be sweating wrapped in plastic. I bought him a similar version in plain cotton and no one has yet complained.

PE kits, by the way, often landed me in trouble when I was at school, mainly for forgetting to bring them. Whenever the school informed my parents of my crime, I could expect no support from my mother (a language and speech therapist who was a stickler for rules), while my dad generally took my side as a lawyer and impassioned libertarian.

I’ve clearly taken a leaf out of his parenting book but don’t get me wrong, I do not wish to raise savages. I’m not a Left-wing anti-establishment lout who supports violent protests and breaks rules for the sport of it. But I will always, as politely as possible, question the status quo if it doesn’t seem logical. I’ll allow my children to do the same, and I’ll stand behind them if they get reprimanded for doing so.

If that makes me a rebel, so be it. I was a rebel student. I plan on being a rebel parent, too.