Boys Bursting their Bubble

On the broad spectrum of parenting, ranging from Laissez Faire (translated as "let the little monsters run amok") to Petunia Dursley (i.e. "locking the children in a closet under the stairs"), I think of myself as falling somewhere around Protective Mom (possibly leaning toward Overly-Sheltering, but I can live with that). I monitor what the kids are allowed to watch on TV; I limit them to G or PG movies; I curb my own language when they're around (darn it!); I even pay attention to the radio stations we choose, to try to avoid racy DJ commentary and such. But sometimes I wonder, as my boys leave me to venture out into the Big, Wide World...of Elementary School...just how in the heck they pick up some of the interesting and varied information that they bring back home and share at the end of each day.

I do know that on occasion they have a chance to experience school-sponsored Cultural Activities, with the intention of expanding their awareness of the Fine Arts. For example Derek and the rest of the 5th grade recently went to a performance of the National Philharmonic Orchestra at Strathmore Music Hall in Bethesda. They heard selections from Tchaikovsky and Mussorgsky, including excerpts from the 1812 Overture, complete with cannon effects--a HUGE treat for 10-year old boys! When asked what else he remembered, Derek came up with "Ballet of the Hatching Chicks", which sounded so ridiculous that it reduced us all to hysterical laughter...until we looked it up on the program and discovered the piece really is called: "Ballet of the Chicks in their Shells." Um, unborn birds...dancing? What the? (Russian geniuses partaking of a little too much vodka while composing, maybe?) Nevertheless--at least for an hour--they're appreciating a kind of music that doesn't get played on Hot 99.5, with lyrics referring to "booties" and "hotties" and whatnot.

Then there are incidents for which I have absolutely no explanation. Case in point: Derek was playing Wii the other day, trash-talking the opposing soccer team as usual. Normally I tune out his constant stream of patter, but this time one comment caught my attention. Out of the blue, he vehemently exclaimed, "I like my sandwiches like I like my girls: CHUNKY!" Oh. My. Goodness. (still watching my tongue, you'll notice) Sitting in the office at the computer, I didn't even bother to ask him what that means or where he got it. In this case, I just don't think I want to know. However, in the natural order of things, I believe he has rubbed off on his younger brother, who could be heard to declare yesterday (also while playing Wii--maybe that's the problem. Blame it on the Rated-E-for-Everyone stinkin' video games!) "Lollipops are like girls: sweet...and colorful!" Sigh. I give up. Clearly they've broken free of my Parental Net and are absorbing Pop Culture...and stuff. Oh well, I guess as long as they don't adopt Kanye as their role model, it will all turn out okay, right?!