This morning, as the boys and I were headed out for our thrilling, rewarding morning of errands, Derek asked "Can we listen to Hot 99.5 in the car?" It's one of my preset stations and I frequently choose it myself, so I readily agreed. (They play sort of a hip Top-40 mix, stuff like Rihanna, Black Eyed Peas, Kings of Leon, Lady Gaga, with the occasional Taylor Swift thrown in for that sugary-mainstream-pop touch.) When I turned on the radio, a song we all liked was finishing up on another station, so we let it play out. Then, in a classic, monumental case of bad timing, I switched to 99.5 while we were pulling into a parking space at the library...and just in the nick of time to hear Sarah the DJ laughingly, incredulously say, "How could she not know she was making love with her husband?"
I could have easily broken my index finger, I jabbed at that radio with such force. I didn't care which button I hit, as long as Sarah's voice disappeared immediately. (Better yet, 5 seconds ago.) And to think, if I'd only been speeding through the 30-mph zone, rather than driving like a cautious, responsible citizen, we could have avoided this entire unfortunate incident. So now my only hope was that the comment had gone right over my sons' heads. But of course Derek instantly giggled and said "Whaaaat?" I desperately hoped that was a "what did she say" and not a "what does that mean, Mom?" Of course Riley quickly, clearly, helpfully repeated "She said 'making love with her husband'...I think." (Gee, thanks so much for that, buddy.)
And, luckily, it was time to get out of the car. Right. This. Instant. Thank goodness no one pursued the issue; my scrambled brain, which was already frantically composing yet another vague, G-rated explanation that would both satisfy them and squelch further questions, was able to relax. However, later in the day Derek requested that I program the radio in his room to Hot 99.5 so he could listen to it. Oh, HECK no, honey (yes, that was the inside-my-head response). I explained that at certain times during the day (the morning show, for instance, when he would be potentially tuning in before school) the DJs use some inappropriate language, and talk about--um--adult topics. So for now we'll stick to listening to it with supervision, like in the car. He nodded, accepting this without argument. Then, looking and sounding wise beyond his almost-10 years, he added "sometimes Riley's in my room, and we wouldn't want him to hear that stuff."
No, we certainly do not...now go turn on that nice, wholesome Glee soundtrack (but please, please, PLEASE don't listen too closely to the lyrics for "Bust a Move.")