This Road Trip Music is Full of S@&t!

I’m not against cursing.  In fact, everyone needs to drop the f-bomb once in a while.  It’s an invigorating release of pent up anger or frustration that just can’t be achieved by yelling Phooey!  But I do not appreciate hearing others rattle off one curse after another in every day language.  Generally, this is not a problem.  Since I am often accompanied by at least one of my young kids, adults responsibly clip their trucker talking habits lest the ears of childhood become blemished by such criminal vocabulary.  Most adults understand that curses, crude jokes or sexual references are reserved for wine-induced dinner talk among friends (with the kids playing in the basement.)

Unfortunately, the radio has no such compunction about offending young ears.  I guess musicians assume that kids under the age of twelve are still listening to Raffi or Barney.  I wish.  My youngest son, now six years old, is enamoured with all songs Top 40.  The trashier the song, the more he seems to love it.  It is unnerving to hear a sweet looking little boy belt out lyrics like, “Boys try to touch my junk!”  And I’m pretty sure he thinks Katie Perry is actually referring to real popsicles when she sings California Girls (Lord, I hope so anyways.)  I find so many songs offensive that our family minivan has oftentimes turned into a battleground as I flip stations to find the most suitable music. 

“Leave it!” my boys will shriek, “I LOVE that song!” 

“It’s rude,” I’ll respond, “You shouldn’t be singing about this kind of stuff, much less KNOW about it.”

“No, we love it, we love it,” they’ll beg, my youngest always the loudest, his eyes filling with tears. “Turn it back!”

The problem with a car is that a screaming six year old cannot be sent to his room for a time-out and there’s no chance of reasoning with him when I have to focus on that BMW I’m about to ram into or the yellow light I’m racing through.  So my choice almost always comes down to: Do I listen to him freak out for the next ten minutes while I’m driving or do I just turn back to the song?  Usually the song wins (with my own f-bomb scratching at my throat to come out.)

At least the radio is kind enough to bleep out the curses.  But to filter out the songs about sex and drunkenness (gosh there’s a lot of them out there), I need to download hand-picked songs.  That’s when I realize that the songs that seemed “safe” are filled with swear words.  Little Lion Man is a fantastic song that I loved hearing on the radio.  I put it on a disc and listened to it with the kids.  I haven’t gotten around to counting how many times it sings the f-word.  I’ll let you know when I do.  And, we learned that Damn, she’s a sexy Bitch, not a sexy chick — nothing like your neighbourhood Whore?  Gee kids, let’s have a sing-along! 

There’s no winning this fight.  The kids wanna sing.  And heck, so many of these tunes are catchy!  We’ve created a compromise and the kids have agreed to use their own bleeps.  I just shrug my shoulders and smile when I hear my son belt out one of his favourite songs:

“When you see my face, hope it give you hah, hope it give you hah!  When you walk my way hope it give you hah, hope it gives you hah!”

Oh hell, what’s a mom to do?

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