Momservation: Preparing for the moment when my kids realize the true meaning behind Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and Kid Rock’s lyrics to “All Summer Long.”

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So we’re driving along the other day enjoying a fun family Sunday. Kids are happy in the backseat with a treat of Slurpees and chips. Hubby and I are the heroes in the front seat, holding hands, bopping to the music on the radio as we head home. You could practically see the hearts, stars, rainbows and flowers spewing out our tailpipe after us, the picture of idealistic family harmony.

A favorite tune comes on the radio and the mood in the car becomes instantly playful as we all start singing and grooving along.

That is until an eight year old soprano rises above all others from the back seat, singing with gusto, “…and we were trying different things, and we were smokin’ funny things, making love out by the lake to our favorite song, sippin’ Whiskey out the bottle, not thinkin’ ‘bout tomorrow, singing ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ all summer long.”  

Now imagine the sound of a record coming to a scratching halt. Hubby and I looked at each other, eyebrows raised in a simultaneous Oh Sh**! moment.

Instead of bringing a little Jesus into their hearts on the day of the Sabbath, our music choices had inadvertently brought a little Kid Rock into their mouths. It appeared our Disney princess wasn’t singing Hannah Montana’s “Best of Both Worlds” anymore.  

What do we do? It was too late to turn the channel. Our daughter, Whitney, obviously already knew the lyrics and she continued to sing along word for word. Making a big deal of it by telling her she couldn’t sing that part would only cause premature curiosity, calling attention to words she didn’t grasp the true meaning of. The bell couldn’t be unrung.

But looking back in the rearview mirror at this little girl in pigtails, singing her guts out to a catchy tune simply because she was happy, I realized we were still in the clear. She was still a firm believer in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy and unconcerned with the details of where babies come from. We felt safe we hadn’t poisoned her well of knowledge just yet. 

Instead we shrugged and smirked, finding the humor in our innocent little girl obliviously singing about sex, drugs and rock and roll. Then we vowed to be more careful about our song choices when the kids were in the car.

Plus, I pointed out to Hubby, I sang the words to “Greased Lighting” about t**s and a** from age 7 to 27 before I shockingly heard and understood what the lyrics were actually saying. After all, it takes a certain amount of life experience to know “the chicks’ll cream” doesn’t mean we’re talking about whipping up some Cool Whip.

Okay, yeah, that didn’t help. Time to turn off the radio and sing “Kumbaya.”