“I’m a bitch. I’m a lover…” the radio crooned as I started up the van.
I quickly fumbled with the volume and tried to turn the radio off but it was too late. The little ears with me perked right up and asked, “Mom what does ‘bitch’ mean?”
Since it was Hayden was who asked the question and he is older, I felt like I could tell him the truth.
“It’s a name of a female dog,” I said.
“Mom, come on. Be serious,” he replied.
“Hayden, I am,” I said, “That is what a bitch means but sometimes people use it as a bad name to call girls so that is why it is not nice to say.”
Hayden looked thoughtful for a moment and then because he has the attention span of a chipmunk began to play with a random toy that he found on the floor of the van.
Betrayed by the radio.
As the kids have gotten older, it is becoming blatantly obvious that they are no long oblivious to what is being said on the radio. They are now old enough to pick up on the words and of course want to know what they mean.
What this means is that I have to be full on creative with how I answer them.
Fun’s “We are Young” is playing on the radio… “So let’s set the world on fire….”
Quinn horrified asks, “Mommy, why does that song say ‘let’s set the world on fire’?”
Great. Here comes a night full of nightmares from Claire because she is going through a phase where she is terrified that the house will catch on fire while we sleep. We pray every night that Jesus will not let this happen.
This one needs to be nipped in the bud and fast.
“They are just being silly.” I said loud enough for Claire to hear, “What they really mean is that they are going to go out and have a good time. No one is really doing to set the world on fire.”
On and other outing, Jacob, without being prompted, starts singing… “Blow my whistle, baby. Blow it real slow.”
Thank you Flo Rida for that wonderful song.
“Jacob, please don’t sing that,” I ask him politely.
“Why mom,” he asks of course, leaving me to fumble for an answer and adds, “I like it when they blow my whistle.”
Oh good grief!
“Well, Jake. Whistles are loud and annoying and you don’t want to share yours because then someone could get your germs. You just keep your germs and your whistle to yourself.” I finally answered.
Fingers crossed that answer sticks.
Then there was the time that it was just me and Claire in the van. Only I forgot that Claire was with me because of a rare 5 minutes when she wasn’t talking and I sang the line, “Yeah, your sex takes me to paradise” from the Bruno Mars song ‘Locked Out of Heaven’ at the top of my lungs. I like that line. I think it’s hot… of course it is not appropriate for a five year old.
“Mommy, what does ‘sex takes me to paradise’ mean?” Claire asked.
I did a mental facepalm and scolded myself. Parent of the year, right here. And then I dug deep and summed all of my parenting creativity, praising Jesus that I was fully operating on a fully caffeinated brain.
“Honey, he was talking about a train. The number six train, take him to Paradise, which is a city,” I said.
I glanced in the rear view mirror, I was met with a ‘I’m not buying it’ look so I sang, “Yeah, your six train takes me to Paradise. Your six train…Choo Choo!”
It was then I vowed we would only listen to classical music in the van.
*This post is part of Writer’s Workshop*