A few weeks back on my Facebook page I gave my status as this: “OMG look at that poser mom singing ‘Fuck You’ at the top of her lungs **looks at self in rearview mirror**.” I don’t know what it is about Cee Lo’s hostile, bitter anthem that makes me so happy, but it does just that (note to self: find therapist). It’s the first song I put on when I get in the car alone lately. Windows down, sunroof open, volume cranked, I drive around town doing errands like that.
When the song started to come on in my iPod rotation with my three-year-old in the car last week though, I quickly switched to the next song. “I like that song!” William protested. It’s not for you, I explained. Then the inevitable “Why?” to which I responded that it was a song with bad words in it. So of course he came up with the worst possible words he could think of, one by one, in an attempt to get me to identify the offender.
May I present….Bad Words by Willliam
6. Baby (“only if big boys call little boys that”)
So, rest assured Gentle Reader, that while I may be overexposing the six-year-old, the three-year-old is still sufficiently sheltered. June would be proud (but have a bar of soap handy, just in case).