It started, ironically, with Bereshit. 

My son paused dramatically after saying the first part of the word then creased up with laughter as he blurted out the last four letters.

It being his first offence, I did little more than narrow my eyes at him and tut, but if I’d known the world of rude and inappropriate words we were about to enter, I would have locked him and his brother up in their bedroom from that day forward to shield my ears from the tidal wave of effing and blinding heading my way.

Not that it would have made any difference. My sons — aged 10 and 8 — think the repetition of rude words is hilarious and cool. A mere expletive uttered by a passer by on the street will leave them open-mouthed with awe, as though they’d just walked past Justin Bieber.

They say them completely out of context (my youngest can sing-song “f-word, f-word, f-word” while happily munching his cornflakes) and always for effect. “Can we go on holiday to Pen Island next year, mum,” tittered my oldest just last week barely keeping a straight face. “You know Pen Island, don’t you? Pen Island, Mum? Get it?’’

I have, of course, attempted to admonish them while stifling my own titters, but the more I highlight their bad language and emphasise the importance of keeping it clean, the more crude the cussing tends to become.

Friends, thank goodness, offer me perspective. I hear of a two-year old who says “w**k you,” instead of “thank you”, a five year-old who calls her brother a “stupid idiot a***hole”, and another who drops a four-letter word every time his books won’t fit into his school bag.

As Jewish mothers aiming to raise wholesome, respectful children we are sometimes amused but mainly mortified and ashamed. And every attempt to stem the flow has the opposite effect.

I don’t have to look far to find the Jewish take on cursing, otherwise known as Nivul Peh.

The Gemara tells us that, because of the sin of cursing, great problems came to Israel; another commentary calls it, “the ultimate source of impurity”reflecting the Nefesh Habahamit — the animalistic aspect of mankind.

Frans de Waal, a professor of primate behaviour at Emory University in Atlanta, explains that, when chimpanzees are angry, they will grunt or spit or make an abrupt, upsweeping gesture that, in humans, would be recognised as aggressive.

Such behaviours are threat gestures, and can be interpreted as a form of cursing, suggesting that vulgar language emanates from and reflects the lowliest aspects of human behaviour.

So, I have a couple of chimpanzees roaming round the house. Now what?

Neil Silverman, a teacher at Sinai Jewish Primary School in Kenton, believes a firm, speedy response is essential in tackling bad language at school.

“I usually talk to the child in question about how and what they said,” he explains. “A long essay about, ‘why you should put your brain into gear before putting your mouth into motion’ and ‘the importance of good manners,’ tends to be an effective remedy.”

Mr Silverman claims he doesn’t come across children who swear in his classroom that often, but use of bad language in the playground will occasionally trickle back to him through their friends.

“The children usually come to me right away to tell me that someone has used bad language and are quite shocked,” he says. “I get the impression that Jewish parents tend to be careful about what they say in front of their children.”

He refers to a story from his own childhood to illustrate the point. “I remember at school, after educating 29 of my non-Jewish classmates about Shabbat, I overheard one of the children at the school gates ask his mother if they could have chicken and veg for a change for Friday-night dinner,” he recalls. “The response from the mother, without hesitation, was we’re having f***ing fish and chips and you can shut yer f***ing little mouth! At that moment, it occurred to me, aged 10, that not all parents know how to talk to their children politely and it was no wonder that the child in question was always in trouble at school for swearing and bad behaviour.”

And this is key. Rabbi Malcolm Herman, Associate National Director of Seed and co-author of the upcoming new book, Everyday Parenting for Everyday Parents (Seed, £15) believes a parent is a life coach and if you want to teach your child that swearing is inappropriate, you can’t be dropping four-letter words yourself.

“Once you’ve established yourself as a role model, you have to think about why they’re doing it,” he explains. “If they’re seeking attention then responding with a high dose of attention only feeds the habit. We have to be clever in the way we educate our children. Perhaps bite your tongue when it happens and pick a time when they are more receptive to you — before bedtime, for example — and explain how you heard them use a bad word and say, ‘we don’t use that word in our family and it’s not appropriate for a person of your quality to use that word.’ This way, you are acknowledging other people might use these words, but your family has a different set of rules. You’re giving them a sense of confidence and pride in who they are.”

If gentle words at bedtime don’t swing it for you, Rabbi Herman is in favour of getting tough.

“Language in Judaism is critical and is seen as a creative force that can build or destroy,” he says. “Boundaries create more space for love and if you believe your child should face a consequence for speaking to you rudely, then by all means, go ahead. You are the life coach and you know the best way for your child to learn.”

I am bolstered by this advice and feel imbued with confidence.

The days of telling me to, “zip it” are over, kids.