Decided to enroll A in a survey course of pop music and I am the instructor. His reactions:
Lady Gaga: Isn’t it weird that Lady Gaga says I want your disease?
Mikey Cyrus: Good.
Niki Minaj: Play that one again.
Carly Rae Jepsen: That was fun.
Meghan Trainor: Dad, this is so boring.
H from the back seat on the way to school:
Why does she say take the bottle of jack from the party?
A was a big fan of San Francisco Bay Blues by Clapton. So much, that he said:
You know I like the Wood Brothers? But only a little bit because they have weird voices. But this is the kind of weird voice I do like.
After listening to Christina Aguilera in the car:
A: Daddy! This song is wrong! Genies are supposed to live in lamps – not bottles!
Tonight’s bedtime reading was a disaster.
I tried reading The Giving Tree to the kids for the first time. (And probably the first time I’ve read it since my own childhood.)
I made it about half way before I had to stop and compose myself.
When the old boy cut down the tree trunk, A gasped, “Oh, no!”
Near the end, I had to stop again to take a breath. Out of nowhere and unprompted, H says, “I love you, Daddy.”
H fell down the stairs this evening. After sitting her in my lap and consoling her for a while I said:
Me: H, did it hurt a lot or just a little?
She looks up at me, tears in her eyes, pauses, and says:
H: It hurt a medium.
H, breathlessly: We found a moth in the house but moths can’t go outside right now cause it raining and his wings get wet like a fairy and he won’t fly so we keeping him safe inside the house now…in A’s lunch box.
A: Knock knock.
Me: Who’s there?
A: Peanut butter.
Me: Peanut butter who?
A: I want to be in a sandwich!
A says…
If someone comes up to you with bad breath and green skin, run away. That’s a zombie
Me: H, when did you get so big?
H: It cause I sleep a lot.
