By nature, I'm not a prude. Unless certain situations force me to be prude-ish. Things, that, for example, involve my 11-year-old step daughter and the songs that she sings.
Like any precocious pre-teen, Sarah's all about whatever disposable pop music is getting heavy rotation on the radio (namely the Q and by "pop" I mean "booty shakin' music"). Most of it is fairly innocuous - or at least the sexual puns are way over her head.
Not so with Maria Carey's latest, "Touch my Body."
Again, I'm not easily offended, but my guard goes up when I see a little girl to whom I'm responsible for helping to mature into an intelligent, grounded and independent young woman, strutting around the kitchen purring lyrics like, "Touch my body/Put me on the floor/Wrestle me around/Play with me some more."
Oh no, that'll make a step-dad lose his ever-lovin' mind. But now, after we've told her not to sing the song and change the station if it comes on (which she does), she can't escape it. And now, it's not only stuck in her head but everyone else's in the house too.
Dang you Mariah!
