Don't Worry Mama, I Know Those Are Bad Words

We live on music in my house. We always have music playing, in the house, in the car, it doesn’t matter. I mean it makes sense because I learned how to write and read music when I was a kid, my parents always played music for us (I have awesome memories of listening to Fleetwood Mac as a kid, still love them) and encourage my brother and I to have pretty eclectic taste when it came to our jams.

Needless to say Grace has been exposed to all kinds of music from the time she was an infant. Different decades, different genres, everything we listen to, she listens to as well. Of course this means major jam out time when we’re in the car, because otherwise car rides are boring and horrible. I mean I’m just saying, a car ride with some good tunes is life for us. I’m sure you understand.

So whoops when I realized too late that the playlist rocking out in my car one day was Mommy’s playlist with the explicit language and not the censored child playlist. Bigger whoops when the song that came on was a hip hop song that Mommy loves (and Grace does too but up until this point she had only heard the censored version) with ALL the language. Like ALL of the language. Of course I realized this way too late and when I went to change the song, not that it mattered but it’s the thought that counts, Grace BEGGED me to keep the song on.

Ok so the song stays on. But so begins the conversation about bad language which pretty much was the 4 year old explanation of how there’s bad words that you don’t say out loud, but when it’s in a song you can sing along with the song in your head. Silently. I think at one point I even told her that there were words in the song that she would NEVER hear Mommy (or anyone else in her life for that matter) say out loud.

Conversation over, song over, here I am thinking maybe I dodged the proverbial bullet. Ironically, I was even thinking wow she let that go way faster than I thought she would have.

I was wrong. Of course I was wrong. So the next time we get into the car, the music comes on and Grace tells me, “Mommy, can we listen to the song with the bad language so I can sing along to it in my head?”. Whoops.