No, no, and no.
What she sang was:
She went to Cleveland
With some guy named Leelan
That she met at the bank
Come back to Texas
Before you lose your accent
Apparently, it's her new favorite song. And that's all she knows of it, for now.
I asked her, "Where did you hear that song? Who taught you that?"
And my husband chimed in with an incredulous tone, "It was on in the truck yesterday and she asked me to turn it up!"
"I like that song, Mommy," she told me. "It has Cleveland in it."
The kids have been quite fascinated with Cleveland since I went there to help Patrick move. I can imagine them arriving there some day and being sorely disappointed.
But to have my little baby girl singing a pop song all day long is disconcerting, to say the least. And she's got her little brother joining in. He just sings, "Come back to Texas," over and over again.
I wonder if Bowling for Soup knows that they have a potential market with the three to six-year-old crowd.
But this whole situation has made me very cognizant of the music I play in the car. Even pretty innocent songs with no cussing can have pretty bad connotations when you take the lyrics out of context. Or when you put them in context.
For now, those lyrics aren't so bad. According to my husband, our daughter has turned into an adolescent overnight. As long as she's not flirting with boys, showing her naval, or wearing a thong, I'm cool with it for now.
But I still need to make sure she isn't singing, "Besides the Mexican food sucks north of here anyway." That could be bad.
By the way...
From the department of good news, which is sorely needed right now, we have the results from Buffy's liver biopsy. According to the vet they were "absolutely fantastic". But we're leaving her on the medication as a precaution. (The dog, that is. Not the vet. Although I sometimes wonder.)