We were sitting around at Ye Olde Swimming Hole a couple of years ago at a community gathering, mostly listening to the younger parents obsesss over rug-rat control.
"Do you let your kids listen to 99.5 in the morning?"
"Heck, no! Even the radio lyrics are pretty gross."
"And what is it that Katy Perry wants to do? Kiss a girl?"
"Oh, mine thinks that's cute. 'Cause she kisses her mommy and her sister and all."
"I came home the other day and the babysitter was watching that Real World thing. You know, where the kids get drunk and sleep with all their housemates?"
"Oh, I know. I wonder when I'm going to have to stop editing what they watch on TV."
The youngest~and I might add, most clueless~of the mommies then turned to me, and asked about my feelings on limiting popular media in my house.
"Oh, I don't think we do." I turned to Mr. Fairway for affirmation. "I mean, they're gonna see and hear most of this eventually anyway, aren't they?"
This, from the mother who let her 10-year-old~who now, as a summer swim coach, is the role model for all these little girls~watch "Erin Brockovich."
More than once.