The top story is bad enough: "Tree kills woman in Kensington, another falls on man in Belgravia."
But even I am gobsmacked by the next: "A man who bludgeoned three sisters with a hammer in a hotel room has been found guilty of attempted murder."
I panic-dive for the radio dial, almost crashing the car. Protests from the gruesome pairing in the back come quickly:
"NOOOO, don't turn it down!" yells my 9 year old.
"Mama," pipes up the 7 year old after a moment of quiet contemplation, "I kinda like the news and don't like the news because it is so freaky."
As I consider my response, he adds:
"It makes me want to know lots about the world."
"Yeah," joins in big brother, a satisfied grin spreading across his face, "the news is gory, but I like it too."
Tomorrow's psychopaths or journalists-in-the-making? I wonder.
After twenty years as a TV reporter, I took the view that my kids would live in the real world. I was raised internationally by a historian father and teacher mother who buried themselves (and us) in newspapers, current affairs magazines and political tomes. The BBC's World Service news played constantly; my path to journalism was almost pre-ordained.
As an investigative reporter and former foreign correspondent, I've worked on some big and terrible stories, most of which I will keep from my children until they are older. The discretion that technology now provides means I can hide ghastly newspaper headlines and screeching 24 hour news behind a Twitter feed or a tablet. But motherly multi-tasking means regular doses of radio news.
John Humphrys joins us for breakfast most mornings. I invite him and the Today show posse in, knowing the chatter around our kitchen table drowns out their doom and gloom. My two are so entrenched in rowing over cereals, loomband bracelets and whose turn it is to get in the car first, they barely listen.
But the drive to school enters the danger zone. I need the day's news so one hand stays on the wheel, the other on volume control. Rape, violence, mass murder, the dial goes right down. Politics, social affairs, education, both hands relax on the wheel, and I get questions all the way to school.
A story about Defence leads to:
"Why can't you leave the army?"
"What if you saw so much killing you couldn't handle it anymore?"
The story of a paralysed man who could walk again elicits:
"What are stem cells?"
"Could he think?"
My children, like all children, love stories. So I filter the X-rated story-telling on the school-run, like a hyper-vigilant tigress. There are stories I will totally close down - the truly overwhelming ones. When the Sandy Hook school shooting happened, my kids were kept oblivious. Their Connecticut cousins live a few miles from that school and it felt too close to home.
Some of my friends go further. Over dinner with mums I have known since our children were babies, one announced she has completely banned the radio, TV and newspapers. "I don't want my kids thinking all Muslims are terrorists and Africans send deadly diseases to the UK," she said.
She has a point. Even an adult struggles to run these stories through a filter, but our children's world views are only just forming.
A school project recently brought this home in stark terms. My 9-year-old had to do a montage about his ethnic origins. His father's side of the family got all the good press; the German football team, a sunny Cypriot beach. Then it came to mine. He drew the Pakistani flag, adding a sign saying "No girls allowed". Above it a US drone and two stickmen holding guns.
He's not even been to Pakistan.
I respond with outrage at this disparaging interpretation, but a well-informed response is shot back: "But Mama, what about Malala, the gun fighting in Karachi, and the American warplanes?"
News from Pakistan doesn't make for a pretty picture. After much negotiation, a sanitised version emerges with the cricket team and a sketch of his granny's chicken curry.
I'm conscious that my quality-control act has an expiry date; the age where technology will be at their command is a heartbeat away, so for now, all I can attempt to do is lead by example.
As a yang to my journalistic yin, I hold talks and classes on living an intelligent but emotionally healthy, self-aware life. For me, that means occasionally turning off the news and tuning into my immediate environment instead. I'm trying to send a message to my kids that a 360-degree reality is composed of as much our own experiences as those of others.
Allowing them to learn about the world while ensuring they feel happy and safe is a balance I will clumsily continue to strike. But until their fingers take over, mine shall hover over that dial.