Thank God I'm a Country Girl, Part Deux

I know most moms view play dates as virtual free babysitting...me?  I supervise.  I want to know what's going on when my back is turned and my daughter thinks I'm not listening.  

This afternoon, when I was spying, er, listening in on my daughter and her five year old friend as they played with two inch tall plastic princess figurines and Littlest Pet Shop animals, I overheard this delicious snippet:

Friend:  Why does Jasmine have to show her belly button?

Lucy:  Yeah!  She needs bigger pants.

Friend:  Or a longer shirt.

Lucy:  Or a jacket, or something!

Let me play that for you as spoken by California five year olds:

kid 1:  Jasmine is like, so pretty.  She DEFINITELY got her boobs done.

kid 2:  For sure!  Her lips, too!

kid 1:  And don't you think that of all the princesses, Cinderella has the most slammin' dye job?

kid 2:  There is NO way that's Miss Clairol in a bottle.  Lifted the base and a full head of highlights.  So worth it.

Okay, the satire is over the line, but not so far that I can't see it in my rearview mirror.  Although there is enough freakshow to go around here, it the variety I can contend with, and coach my daughter through. 

Yah...I'll take the humping cows over octomom any day.  Sing it with me:  Vivaaaaa Nashvegas!