IT’S ALL ABOUT the music, folks. At least that’s what my charming children would like me to believe.Every morning, at the ungodly hour of 7:15, my kids and I and sometimes the H pile into the car for our morning commute. Ever since our rural relocation, this commute is a pretty blissful experience: woods and sky and not enough other drivers to annoy me.
That’s good, since my kids are finding plenty to annoy me, what with their constant bickering about what we’re all allowed to listen to on the way to school. I thought I wouldn’t face this particular brand of sibling rivalry until at least one of them was over the age of 12.
As with so many beliefs I previously held about parenting–this one was, indeed, wrong.
The Rock loves the Beatles, like her daddy, and Lady GaGa, thanks to me. (Her song Just Dance is a particular favorite of mine, fitting, as it does, into my own theme of new year’s revolution.) The River, by contrast, is all about hard rock.
Since my kids don’t watch television, and the only radio station we can reliably receive out here in the hinterlands is NPR, his taste has been, uh, shaped, by what I’ve been willing to expose him to. (Showing him Adam Lambert covering KISS was probably a mistake; instead of falling for Adam, he’s all about Gene Simmons. Whoops.) But knowing his proclivity for loud and atonal, I suggested my favorite loud band, The Clash, and he’s a total convert. The River, bless her, will listen willingly to exactly one of their songs: Should I Stay or Should I Go.
While the complaints, whines and cries of “I hate your music!” fly, I’ve been combing the internet for a Clash/Gaga mashup, to no avail. If there are any DJs out there in sisterland, can you hook a mother up?
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