In my effort to expose the girls to the news a bit more and be less overprotective, I turned the radio up loud enough so the girls could listen to Morning Edition with me today while they had breakfast and I packed their lunches. When I switched it on, they were doing a story about sex education and teen pregnancy prevention programs. Awesome.
"What did they just SAY?" Molly demanded, looking scandalized. "They're talking about sex," I said. (I was only halfway through my first cup of coffee - what do you want?) "MOM! Violet's going to hear you! Don't say that WORD!"
Ah, Violet - our innocent kindergartner. She was riding the train with me the other day and asked if she could listen to my iPod. As I put the earbuds in her sweet little ears, she turned to me and whispered "Mom, do you have "Fuckin' Perfect" on here?" This was on a packed subway car, by the way. And it was a stage whisper. Mom of the Year, yet again. (In case you're wondering, yes I did have "Fuckin' Perfect" on my iPod, and yes I did let her listen to it. Shut up.)
Back to the breakfast table and NPR: I already said I hadn't had enough coffee, right? I am really not equipped to have a serious conversation about sex education and teen pregnancy at 8AM. Instead, I performed a rousing rendition of Jermaine Stewart's classic "We Don't Have To Take Our Clothes Off" and danced around the kitchen while making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I can't believe I still remember that song. (You know what I want to know? What IS cherry wine, anyway? Boone's Farm?) I think the kids liked it. Also, they never want to be seen in public with me again. Oh, well.