Repeat Worthy

Certain songs grab me at the core of my being. Similar to the way the character Elaine on Seinfeld deemed a select group of men as “sponge worthy,” I deem the songs that affect me—either by melody or lyric—as repeat worthy. These rare songs can get set on repeat for—I am embarrassed to write—hours.

I mean, I have to get into the zone with these songs--absorbing every nuance. Thank goodness for headphones as otherwise, Parental Unit #2, would look at me over his desk and say, “Really? Again?”

“Mykonos” by Fleet Foxes is one of my current repeat worthy songs. I am a sucker for the group's Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young-type vocal harmonies, and it just fits as the melancholy, but somewhat uplifting soundtrack to these constant grey, snow laden days.

So I have to wonder what makes The Fall’s cover of the Kinks “Victoria” so doggone repeat-worthy for young Master Bertram? I’ve posted about this song and Bertram’s love for it in January. Yet, I swear if I loved that song as a teenager, back in 1988, I think I can honestly say that I do not need to hear it again for the rest of my life. Young Master B requests the song by demanding, “Tick! Tick!” And, woe to the poor parental unit who tries to put on another song or, perhaps, be so bold as to let “Tick! Tick!” play only once.

What is equally amazing to me is that Bertram cranks out some major toddler boogie each time he hears the song. Mind you, the act of listening and getting down to the song is only to be undertaken by young Master B—parental units and siblings cannot shake their respective tail feathers unless Bert says so. On the occasion that Bertram invites us to join in the fun, he wants us to do a move that I call “air dribbling,” which involves raising your arm up and down to the ticking sound of the drum sticks.

So, 8 people who visit this site regularly, do you or your child have a repeat-worthy song? I’m interested to know what songs move you.

Keep on Going

The picture above was taken on Christmas Day 2009. It is one of the rare photos where the four of us are together in one shot. Usually, young Master B demands to play with the camera, which results in extreme close up shots of him reaching for the camera and no candid shots. In looking at our pictures over the last half of 2009, you would think we only had one child: Vivian.

Anyway, I like this photo even though the kids aren’t looking at the camera. I like that Hal and I chose to wear pants with crazy patterns. (Personally, I think my psychedelic print beats his plaid. What do you think?) I like that Hal and I attempt to keep smiling in spite of the fact that our son is throwing a tantrum because he couldn’t have the camera. I like that young Miss Vivi appears highly amused by her brother’s antics. I like this photo because we tried to capture the impossible: the stillness of four human beings. We’re failing miserably, but we seem to be having a grand time. We keep on going.

A long time ago, my friend Matt told me a story. (Matt recently joined the Cult of New Parents. Welcome, Matt!) I can’t seem to remember the exact plot, but at the end of it, a character said, “sometimes, you just got to keep on going.” This probably does not translate well—since it comes from a fuzzy memory of a story and character I can’t recall. Yet, that line has always stuck with me. The line sticks on days like today, when I have these kinds of thoughts:

I got to see my kids for two waking hours, and those two hours happen to be when they are cranky and whining.

Keep on going.

I work and my to-do list doesn’t seem to get any shorter.

Keep on going.

It’s 10pm, and I’m so tired I could fall asleep on my laptop.

Keep on going.

Language Is a Virus, Part 3

I saw this guy on the train
And he seemed to gave gotten stuck
In one of those abstract trances.
And he was going: "Oo-ah...Oo-ah...Oo-ah..."

These lyrics, particularly the bit about the man on a train in a trance spouting gobbley gook, remind me of young Master Bertram and his current obsession: Curious George. I’ve already noted that mimicry is one of young Master B’s specialties. Mimicry serves Bertram well when he imitates the way in which my fellow Parental Unit and I read books aloud. For instance, when we read Beatrix Potter’s Tale of Tom Thumb, does Hunca Munca merely squeak with joy upon seeing the doll’s food laid out upon the table? Oh no, she squeeeaks with joy! So delighted is Bertram at this pronunciation that he repeats it to us as, “Mommy squeeeks with joy! Daddy squeeeks with joy!”

Where this toddler mimicry becomes a problem is when Bertram decides to imitate that cartoon monkey George. So instead of words, I get to hear, “oooh, ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, oooh aaah.” That’s right, young Master B speaks monkey. When I remind Bert to use words, he takes that as a cue to repeat his monkey declarations, only louder and with stomping and jumping for extra emphasis. Thank you, PBS Kids.

What I want to understand is why so many kids'shows feature shouting unintelligible creatures like George or characters like Sesame Street’s Baby Bear, who speaks with a lisp. Many of young Master B’s contemporaries seem similarly drawn to mimicking, so I have to wonder what the thought process is for the child education experts (supposedly working for these shows) who create these characters with speech impediments—yes, I am looking at you Elmo: Parental Unit One wants to introduce you to her new paper shredder.

Brother and Sister

047, originally uploaded by hal(var).