Anatomy 1-oh!-1

As I have mentioned earlier, and for damned good reasons, I have a strong opposition to children’s rampant use of anatomical terminology, as encouraged by today’s tell-all-parent.  This is not only inappropriate; it is painfully awkward for anyone outside of the childrearing years of thirty-five to forty.  No one should have to experience the equivalent of Cindy Lou Hoo discussing nipples, penises, or God-forbid, her special “button.”  I mean, come on!  After all, The Color Purple was a tragic tale, people, not a glossary for preschoolers!FreshPaint-5-2016.05.02-06.00.23

So, how to combat this revolting trend?  How to appropriately reference anatomy, especially if it is itchy, hurt on the monkey bars, or simply hanging out of a pair of pants?  Unless you were raised in a commune by irresponsible hippie-freaks, driveling non-stop about Walt Whitman’s body electric, we have to go no further than our own childhoods, where our uptight parents inspected our offending body parts through the lens of a well-filled martini glass.  Like them, we should use generic, inoffensive terms like “your privates.”  This term not only conveniently blurs the line between male and female (no, there is no sex!), but it can also give you quite a chuckle upon arriving at an army post.

Sometimes anatomy is even baptized with cute family names, such as “your bott-bott” or “rumpey-pumpey.”  There is no need to get too cute, of course, but you see what I am getting at.  The bottom line (snort, chuckle- there is a pun there!) is that in no way should these terms be sexual or even universally identifiable in the event of an unfortunate incident at the store, or worse, church.  The Lord’s Prayer should never be marred with comments about the child’s vagina in the pew behind you.  On a side note, the touching of the anatomy can be a problem: steer clear of Michael Jackson videos and encourage frequent trips to the bathroom.

For your edification, below is a chart of terms that I have found quite useful.  You’re welcome!

Lying guide- Anatomical terms chart

Sorry, hands, do not touch the boy- but here is some elusive cake. Try not to get sand in it.

Friends, I know that I have already discussed the perils of trying to ride in the car with your kids while listening to music.  Lyrics nowadays- am I right?  OK, OK, Musique’s 1978 hit, “In the Bush,” was insane, but back then, what kid knew what this song was about?  It Musique In the Bushwas disco!  Disco made no sense.  It was all about hopping around, gyrating madly to a mind numbing, hypnotic beat.  With disco balls and lava lamps and bell bottoms- those were the days!  We were screen-free, sheltered little critters who had no idea what the lyrics were saying.  But today’s savvy child’s mind needs to be redirected away from the actual meaning of songs on a daily basis.  After all, they are constantly exposed to all sorts of revealing information in songs, TV shows and movies- and maybe they will be able to put it all together themselves!  It’s exhausting but we must stop them!  On a positive note, a parent’s level of mental gymnastics and quick thinking will help stave off Alzheimer’s for at least a couple years more….

Now, there is no need to reinvent the wheel.  So, to help out my fellow parents, below are several examples of appropriate lyric translations.  Trust me, they turn the absurdly vulgar into an absolutely acceptable- and believable!- product.  I cannot emphasize enough the need to extend childhood as long as possible- and nothing kills childhood faster than taking a bite from the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Knowledge.  You do that, and the next thing you know you are in a world of trouble whilst naked in the middle of a garden.  Oddly enough I have a similar recurring dream that ties together my two greatest fears: nudity and nature- no thanks to both!  But I digress….  Here we go!

1. “Is it too late now to say sorry…?
I’m not just trying to get you back on me, oh no
‘Cause I’m missing more than just your body, oh…”

Oh, oh, oh, Justin, that is a very moving example of contrition.  It says a lot about his life philosophy and the power of low standards, not to mention single syllable words.  Who knew there were so many of them?  Oops, that was unkind.  Sorry!   All of that aside, why is he trying to convince himself that he does not want to get her “back on” him- or that he is not fixated on her “body?”  Nope, I’m not trying to psychoanalyze a megalomaniacal Canadian youth.  So I will focus instead on cleansing this ditty of all its Bieber DNA.  So please don’t “go and get angry at all of my honesty.”  Here is how I have explained these subversive lyrics:

“Children, did you know that Justin Bieber is Canadian and that they have tons of different expressions there?  For God’s sake they refer to American cheese as ‘processed’ cheese!  It’s hard to believe.  At any rate, in Canada ‘to get back on’ someone means to be ‘back on their good side.'” bieber-crotch-1.jpg

“But, mommy, he said that he is missing more than her body.  That’s weird.”

“No, no, no!  In Canada ‘body’ is another term for personality. You  know, like saying that Justin Trudeau really has a great body– you know, personality.  So, let’s imagine that  mommy has a sort of relationship with Trudeau that has sadly turned sour.  For the sake of argument, let’s imagine I’m a member of his cabinet and I mistakenly proposed to extradite Justin Bieber from the U.S., which no Canadian wants.   I would then have to apologize because I  sure wish I could ‘get back on Trudeau’s body.’  But we don’t talk like that here.  So don’t. OK?  Ever!”

Scene!  It’s a wrap!

2. “Can’t keep my hands to myself
No matter how hard I’m trying to….”

Wow.  Based on Selena Gomez’s compulsive touching disorder (which probably falls within the OCD spectrum), one word of “sorry” from the Biebs should settle that whole getting “back” on her “body” issue, but I may be reading into this a bit much.  How to explain this to children?  Easy peasy lemon squeezy!  Just go into all the possible compulsions that are out there: fear of corners, eating your own hair, counting every Canadian you pass, the need to rub certain objects repeatedly (the mind reels, Selena!), washing your hands every five minutes (after all, you can’t keep them to yourself), revulsion at your own body (not Bieber’s issue)… you get the point.  This should convince your little ones that Selena has real mental issues, but is fiercely proud to celebrate them, because in today’s self-indulgent society, why the hell not?!?!

3.  “Well, I had me a boy, turned him into a man
I showed him all the things that he didn’t understand…
They always wanna come, but they never wanna leave.”

Egads!  This is a tough one.  How do you turn a boy into a man?  Damned if I know, but this gal, Elle, does it like it’s her job.  I mean, she hasn’t shown me all the things that I don’t understand- yet- but one can only hope she is reading this and is willing to throw me a bone, as it were.  Till then, focus on the scenario that Elle is an itinerant teacher who focuses on an all-male curriculum.  She is such a good teacher, the students always want to come… to her office and “never wanna leave.”  As a high school teacher myself, I know how patently absurd that idea is since I have more than twenty years experience boring adolescents, and they always want to leave- always.  But I ain’t no Elle King, after all.  Just focus on the transformative powers of education and watch Stand and Deliver  when you get home.  Done and dusted!

4.  “Talk to me, baby
I’m going blind from this sweet, sweet craving, whoa
Let’s lose our minds and go f*cking crazy
Ah ya ya ya ya I keep on hoping we’ll eat cake by the ocean.”One-Hundred-Picnic-Suggestions

Frankly, on this one, I got nothing.  Donna Summer’s “MacArthur Park” song makes a hell of a lot more sense, and that one is a doozy.  Introduce your children to Candy Crush Soda Saga and move on.  How hard can it be to pack a neat lunch that includes cake, and then head down to the beach?  Apparently it’s very, very hard-the stuff that “sweet” dreams are made of.  Or that makes you spiral into violent mental illness.  Or makes you prattle on in gibberish while you stoke the fires of eternal hope.  Whatever.  It’s stupid.  Although, mind you, it has quite the catchy tune!

OK, gang, I hope this was helpful.  I’m now going to go listen to some Gershwin  or Cole Porter or Billie Holiday or Ray Charles, for God’s sake, like the damned adult I am.  Unfortunately, though,  I now have a hankering for cake- and for Donna Summer, the Queen of Disco!  And we come full circle….

Death- Avoid at All Costs….

Death is a barbed topic.  My advice is to attack this tricky subject by focusing on the joys of the afterlife.  And no, I do not mean a discussion grounded in truth or fact!  Seriously, how much do we really know about death and the beyond?   Regardless of your background, join a church, synagogue, whatever immediately!  If you’re  already a member of one, then start going more regularly.  No need to get carried away, though….

Also, make sure you choose the right spiritual construct for you and your family.  Take Buddhism for example.  It has its appeal but the prospect of coming back as an animal may be rather disturbing to my city kids who equate rats, feral cats  and crows with the entirety of the animal kingdom.


Returning as any of those creatures feels like a real downgrade, if you know what I mean.


All of that aside, populate the afterlife with grandparents, pets and roadside kill.  It won’t hurt anyone and will allow your children to ease into this angst-ridden topic as they mature.  It is especially important that your “heaven” be a real paradise.   Feel free to be authentic in your descriptions of your nirvana.  As for me, I’m sure there will be a beautiful, shiny mahogany bar.  Jesus was a carpenter, after all, and let us not forget that first miracle.  Water into wine- what a guy!  Where was He at my second wedding when I went thousands of dollars in debt due to an open bar for 40 drunks?

So, capitalize on every time one of your friends’ animals die, especially cats.  No one cares about cats, really, and it’s a less painful way to exercise the topic.  Make sure that the end result is always the same: the cat is in heaven- maybe not right there, downtown, but certainly skirting the edges, tying one on in fields of catnip. It is heaven, right?

The death of a dog is a horrible thing, and hopefully all your friends’ dogs will give up the ghost prior to yours so your kids can be prepared to handle the inevitable death of your own pooch.  Check out the conversation below, which I had with my own children when their cousins’ puppy- a puppy, for God’s sake!- died.

“Puppy is dead?!?”  But he’s a doggy baby!”

“Yes, he is now in heaven looking down on us.”

“He’s with other doggies?”

“Of course!  The older ones are showing him where all the fun dog parks and treats are.”

“I like to think of them up there running around and chasing butterflies!”

“Ha!  And cats!  I bet they get to chase cats, too, huh, kid?”  This is a perfect example of how you can get overzealous and step in it.

“Why would they chase poor little baby cats?  Why does that have to happen in heaven?!?”

“No, no, no!  Mommy got confused, sweetie, I forgot that in heaven everyone loves each other.  The doggies are probably giving cats piggyback rides and stuff!”  Unlikely.  Dead or alive our Jack Russell would never pass up a chance to give a cat what for.

“Piggyback rides- funny!”

“Oooh!  Let’s go draw that!”

“Can I have piggyback ride, though?”

“Absolutely, and we can pretend to be puppies carrying kitties!”

“Yippee, mommy is the best!”

“Yes, she is!”

As you can see, it’s important to really play up the paradise angle of heaven, putting in all the stuff we enjoy heartily here on earth.  I wouldn’t go the way of Hieronymus Bosch’s vision of earthly delights- not sure how a flower or a flute up your bum is a good thing, but hey, clearly someone thought it was fun.  Hieronymus Bosch must have been a total perv….Bosch Earthly Delights

Finally, when confronted with questions about the nature of God, why bad things happen- especially to good people- try to find a children’s illustrated book of Job*.

Barring that, I got nothin’.  What?  I’m a philosopher now?!?

*not William Blake’s, not William Blake’s!

In Defense of Lying

As you read through this blog for strategies on helping perpetuate your child’s happiness, note how each post presents authentic, real life issues that families deal with every day across this great nation.  These posts include sound suggestions on how to handle each tough situation- from the dreaded topic of sex to parental conflict.  The solutions are gleaned from tried and true experiences that I have both lived through and witnessed.  Now, this may seem like a purely anecdotal collection of advice, but there is real science behind it all.  Take for example, the chart below.  First of all, it is a chart.  Secondly, it indicates precisely that lying- be it through omission or not- is the unspoken secret to a happy family.  The data below was collected by NIPLL (National Independent Parental Lying League), an organization that I have had a bear of a time launching beyond our weekly cocktail hour set.  Sure, perhaps my friends are all drunk at the time, but even the childfree ones fully back the importance of shielding children from awful truths.  Or maybe just shielding themselves from children- I can’t help but notice their disappointed looks when the little ones go rogue during a dinner party and come downstairs for a Family von Trapp meet and greet.  At any rate, I trust that this blog will help garner support for NIPLL, a most dignified and highly relevant organization.

NIPPL chart

As you can see, the foundation for lying is logical.  Children need to remain children and ultimately do not want to know the truth.  They do not want life demystified.  They want enchantment and delight- and information on condoms, for example, singlehandedly negates both of those.  So, when confronted by inappropriate curiosity, do anything in your power not to answer truthfully.  The truth will not set you free.  I will go as far as to say that the truth will chain you to a series of disappointing (for all parties) conversations that will forever haunt you and your child.

In conclusion, there is a direct correlation between withholding developmentally inappropriate material from children and the length and happiness of their childhood.  There is no reason children should know anything, frankly, other than readin’, ‘riting and ‘rithmetic.  Ignorance is bliss, after all!  So, read on and you will find not only a surprising array of familiar and treacherous situations, but also multiple, scientifically-based defense methods!

My kids know that without a doubt, mommy will be there to make sure that they can frolic in a safe, magical land called “childhood,” uninhabited by weird, distasteful fact ogres.  And remember- that truth obsessed freak, Immanuel Kant, never had children!

Subliminal Messages- and how to [follow this blog!] protect your kids from the truth

We have discussed deflection and how to use it.  Now let’s take this a step further and introduce the concept of subliminal messaging.  Subliminal tactics can be used during deflection- or if deflection really has not done the trick.  Those savvy children can sometimes latch on to a concept and not want to let go for love nor money.

Let’s start with something fairly simple.  For the sake of argument, imagine that your spouse is also a fairly distant cousin of yours.  This is perfectly legal, mind you, but is potentially embarrassing scoop.  You want to prepare your children for this information, but they are not ready for it now.  I mean, why would it not be legal to marry your cousin?  Seems perfectly normal.  You already are family and love each other- plus there would no longer really be any in-laws!  Be careful, though, making too many excuses may force you to explain why cousins don’t marry, leading you to the whole sex thing.  Not in this blog, you don’t!  Instead, focus on things like royal families early on.  I am a big fan of European royalty, which is downright packed with conjugal cousins. Paper dolls of royal families are readily available as well as exciting knight tales for the more adventure inclined.  Soon you can start showing your kids some royal family trees- oops, not a lot of forks on those!  Never mind- you’re already paving the way!

Fine, that’s easy enough, but what if you have a less easily admitted secret?   How about if you were once a stripper?  Ouch!  That’s a tough one!  You want to go with a scenario that allows you to explain the error of your ways without any trickle down of the “sins-of-the-fathers” effect.  Well, here is an example of how you could start planning early for the Big Reveal.  Do this often.  Think: wash, rinse and repeat.

“Mommy, I love my tap dance class!”

“I’m so happy sweetie.  Mommy loved dancing, too.  She also loved bikinis. That was a long time ago.  You don’t want to see mommy in a bikini now, huh?  Ha!”

“Not really, but I think you’re pretty!”

“Thanks, baby!  I used to be really pretty… in a bikini.  But you won’t be mad if mommy used to wear a bikini?”

“Of course not, mommy!  Silly.  I love my butterfly bikini!”

“Me, too!  You know you can dance or you can wear a bikini.  You don’t really want to do both at the same time.  But college is so expensive, and all those darned student loans aren’t going to pay themselves!  Poor Mommy!  So, no dancing in bikinis, OK?”

“OK, only dance in a one-piece.”

“That’s a start.  We’re getting there!  Mommy loves baby!”

When the time comes for your sweet child to learn the truth through supposed friends’ Throwback Thursday pictures of you performing an air dance while observing the two feet rule, you will have already successfully planted the seeds of understanding.  As you can see, eventually little Tiffany may be a bit shocked by your previous money making endeavors, but she will accept you and forgive your former 20 year-old self for having to make the necessary sacrifices to be a self-sufficient, educated woman.  Roar!

The V-Word and its Perils

It is at times like these that I must throw up my hands in disgust and ask the ever burning question: “why in hell’s bells must parents teach their children the unappealing names for our anatomical parts?!?”  I never, ever want to hear the word “vagina”- not even from my gynecologist, much less from a child!  It was bad enough that our son learned the word “penis” in kindergarten.  At least I had him going with “bladder pouches” for testicles till the first grade…..

I will elucidate.  Several years ago, I was on a lunch “play date” (since it involved no wine, it doesn’t really merit the designation) with a couple of mothers and our kindergarten daughters.  As our meals arrived, one of the sweet little blondes at the table announced quite loudly- as if discussing the weather- that her “vagina itched.”  Had I been fortunate enough to have alcohol in my mouth, I would have almost spit it out.  Her mother seemed remarkably unmoved and proceeded to make several unmentionable suggestions to resolve the matter.  In her place, I would have sunk under the table till the meal was over.

Once I gathered myself, and wiped the diet coke off my shirt, I looked around sheepishly.  And that is when it hit me: “vagina” was a routine word nowadays.  No one at the table seemed even remotely phased, including my daughter.  Since she had never heard the word, it mercifully did not register.  She probably assumed it was a highfalutin word for “elbow.”  Let’s hope she never takes it for a spin….  At any rate, being a good decade or so older than the other mothers, I realized that this new generation of truth-telling, hippie-freedom-lovin’, mother-turned-friend was the norm.Human-anatomy-for-children

Why am I mentioning this today?  Because, now, years later, my son whipped out the v-word in the middle of an otherwise pleasant conversation to announce that he had finally learned the word for the “girl penis.”   And why is this of particular danger?  Ah, good question!  Because if there is no vagina, there is no sex. Simple!  Now, thanks to the son of an over-eager, all-revealing parent, I have a mildly well-informed son who may soon figure out how the “puzzle pieces” fit together.  The fabric of his childhood is coming apart in front of my very eyes!

Nothing a quick trip to the pool followed by ice cream didn’t take care of- deflect, deflect, deflect!  However, I may have to start a new national movement to create a more appropriate nomenclature for body parts.  I’ll start with referring to the vagina as the “never regions.”   And I’m bringing back the bladder pouch!

Running in the Aisles….

Shopping with children has long been a unique form of torture.  “I want that, I’m tired, I have to pee, why can’t we go home…” and the list goes on and on.   As if that weren’t bad enough, once children learn how to read, you really have to pick your aisles carefully.  Danger lurks everywhere: feminine hygiene, hemorrhoid creams, lubricants, and let us not forget, the ever present condom- so many fun family topics!supermarket

Oh, my friends, beware the condom aisle.  My advice?  If you suddenly find yourself there, run and run fast!  If you cannot run fast enough, think even faster.  Take a recent experience I had with my own spawn.  (Note: the name of the guilty condom has been changed in order to avoid a lawsuit, but the experience is depicted accurately.)

We were in a particular pharmacy for the first time and I did not know the lay of the land.  All I wanted was to purchase sunscreen when we mistakenly walked by a section of condoms.  I ushered my children through as quickly as possible but one of the boxes caught my son’s eye and he started repeatedly asking “what’s that?  what’s that?” as I dragged him down the aisle.

“Nothing, dear, nothing at all!” I sang as we made it out of the danger zone.

“But it said ‘surprise’ on it.  I want to be surprised….”  Damned advanced kindergarten class!  And no, son, no you don’t want to be ‘Sir-prized!’  Trust mommy.

I clearly had no choice but to face his repeated questions head-on.  “Well, you know how we always have piñatas at your birthday parties, full of goodies?”

“Yippee, I love my Spongebob piñata!  But we had to tape him back together because cousin Iain beat him really hard.  Almost killed poor Spongey!”

“Yes, I remember, dear.  OK, sometimes adults have a party that requires a kind of piñata.  So, that ‘Sir-prize!’ is for adults when they beat their-um- ‘piñata.’”

“Oh- so that’s an adult goodie that goes inside your piñata?”

“Don’t go messing with metaphors, kid.  Let’s just focus on the fact that it’s not for you to worry about; it’s for adults- adults!”

“Cool!  But do you ever have a piñata party?”

“No, mommy normally has a headache.”

“Poor mommy!”

“Yep, poor, poor mommy!”  See how easy that was?  It’s very important to create an understanding in your kids’ minds that there is an adult world that they have no business in, and that we as parents are protecting them from this world.  Once they can wrap their pretty little heads around that fact, you can easily push them away from an unpleasant topic.   Remember, items such as condoms are gateway drugs to all sorts of peril.

And by the by, the only thing that should  be ribbed is your sweater.

Leprechauns- less likely than a tooth fairy?

Last week my son’s class had an activity which consisted in building a leprechaun trap.  Of course, the next day came and went with no catch whatsoever- only the telltale green sparkle that is apparently the hallmark of the leprechaun.  I can only imagine what a Dyson vacuum cleaner goes for in Tipperary.leprechaun

Of course, one of my sons’s peers (let’s call him “Sean”) felt the need to pull him aside and point out that this was all a sham put on by the teacher, and Sean was too damned smart to fall for such shenanigans.  Well, top o’ the mornin’ to ya!  Thanks for that bundle of confusion you sent my way, Sean!  I’d like to Blarney your stones….

The evening of the big reveal, my son told me about Sean’s pearls of wisdom and asked me teary-eyed if I believed in leprechauns.  I truthfully said that I believed that there were many mysterious and strange phenomena that I could not begin to understand, much less explain.  I was primarily thinking of the aurora borealis and Spanx.  Definitely Spanx.

I reminded him about the tooth fairy and Santa, and that just because the poor leprechaun was not well-heeled enough to leave a token, he should not be thought less of.  This seemed to have comforted him tremendously and we had our usual talk whenever confronted with doubt.  I explained yet again that “not believing” was not a sign of intelligence or maturity.  It was just plain stubbornness- and more importantly, it was sad for whatever was being rejected by the jaded unbeliever.  Poor little leprechaun and his humble green sparkle!  This tugged at his empathy strings and within minutes my little boy was smiling peacefully.

A child’s imagination is stoked and his heart is filled with joy when leprechaun traps are built.  And potential engineering careers are encouraged.  And all is well with the world.

Oh, but Sean is banned from all future play dates.  He can pogue mahone any time.  Éirinn go Brách!

Which Came First…?

Remember to always be alert and never let down your guard.  This morning our sweet son asked for a boiled egg for breakfast.   Seemed innocent enough!  Since he wantedegg to help with the cooking, he got the egg out of the refrigerator and jokingly said that if he dropped it, it would be “chicken murder.”

After we all had a good laugh- or not (the kid is seriously morbid)- I could see the little wheels turning in his head.  He was up to one of the most treacherous of juvenile activities: thinking.  Nothing more dangerous than a little information with no great smarts to back it up!

“Wait, is there a chick in the egg, Mommy?”

“No, son, of course not.  You have seen plenty of cracked eggs and you know that there is nothing there but yolk and egg white.”  I knew where this was going….

“So, why isn’t there a chick in the eggshell?”  Like I am about to explain fertilization to the kid.  You introduce sex into the infantile world and childhood is over.  I know.  We have already discussed this, but I feel the need to reiterate.  No more tooth fairy.  No more Easter Bunny.  No more Santa.  Would Santa do that to Mrs. Claus?  I don’t think so!

“Well, son, there are two kinds of eggs.  Some eggs become chicks and the others  become breakfast.  Two kinds, see?”

“Oh!  I get it!  How do the eggs know which kind they are, Mommy?”

“How do you know what you are, kid?”

“Hmm.  OK, but how do the eggs know?”  Push-back.  Expect it.  Go monotone and glassy eyed.

“Really, son, I am no expert in the chicken industry and my advice is not to look into it too much.  You’ll never eat fowl again.  That’s a homonym to remember.”

“Sounds boring.  Hey, I’m hungry.  Can we make the egg now?”  There we go.  Start sounding like a teacher and anyone will tune you out.  I know.  Because I am a teacher.

Kids don’t want the real answers to these sorts of questions.  No one does!  Plus, chicken sex- what’s that about?  Gives a whole new meaning to “gamecock.”  Not a visual I need any time soon.

Children are exploring the world at large and it is our responsibility to keep them safe.  It’s the same logic as why you would never let your kid cross a street alone just because he wants to go to the playground around the block.  You certainly don’t want them wandering around out there considering the insemination of chickens in tacky, poorly lit hen houses with some pimp farmer barking out orders to an oversexed rooster nicknamed “Max the Roto Rooter. ”  No, you really don’t.

The Radio Dilemma

Yes, it’s time for a lesson from The Lying Guide.  Let’s start with the seemingly simplest of tasks: taking your kids to school in the jovial, music-infused environment that is your car.  Your children are smiling and it’s another beautiful day.

ariana grande

Then these gratuitously explicit lyrics pop up that would make Cole Porter proud: “When I get you moaning you’ll know it’s real / Can you feel the pressure between your hips? / I’ll make you feel like the first time.”  (Oh, right, because that was such a joy!  And why does he have to ask her if she feels the pressure between her hips?  Doesn’t say much for him, if you know what I mean….)

Anyway, start out easy, and don’t take any unnecessary risks. Latch on to something like the moaning.  A lightly thrown out “Gee, the stomach flu sure is a horrible thing” is a good option.   Don’t rush things.  Wait to see if the children are even listening.  No response means that you have just dodged a bullet!  The kids were oblivious, in their own little gumdrop world, and the gods have smiled upon you.

But what if the little weasels were listening all the while, preparing to belt out this gem of a ditty to the whole playground?  This is not good!  You must discredit this song- and fast!  These lyrics only appeal to a 14 year old who has yet to experience the apparently wondrous rapture of the “first time,” and thus you would think they’d lose their attraction on their own merits.  But these are 8 and 10 year olds in the car that we’re talking about!  They have no discernment or critical thinking skills- these people are clueless, and they’re about to humiliate you in front of Miss Molly.  Miss Molly, for Christ’s sake!  The woman is a human sieve of gossip and tongue wagging!

“Mommy, does the lady in the song have the stomach flu?”

The “lady.”  That’s rich.  A real cheap little number, that Ariana Grande.  What is she like 12 or something?  Where is her mother?!  Probably gave her “the talk” when she was 7 and this is what we end up with 5 years later.  All moans and hips in what appears to be a state of twilight anesthesia.

“Yes, and that’s why she’s moaning in pain because her stomach hurts so badly.  Her stomach.  In her hips.  You’ll learn all about that in anatomy class one day. Tricky stuff.  She’s probably about to throw up.”

“Ew, Mommy, that’s gross!  But why does he want her to throw up  like the first time?  How does he know she’s had the stomach flu before?”  Good Lord, this child is a good listener!

“Well, you know, maybe not the stomach flu but like when she was a baby.  Babies throw up all the time!”

“HA!  Like when I used to throw up on you and Daddy!”

“Yeah, that was a really funny time.  But this song is stupid.”

“Stupid and gross.  I wanna hear another song now.”

Success!  See how easy that was?  It’s what I call “the deflection method.”  I’ll go into detail about that later, but I thought I would introduce it first with a little modeling exercise.  Protect the children by burying anything explicit under layers of the absurd (it’s Eugene Ionesco for kids!) and therefore letting them retreat into a land of lullabies and innocence.

Remember- kids don’t need weird information about hips and first times.  No one does.  Except for maybe those 14 year olds.  They’re pathetic.