I’m very proud of the musical playlist that I have put together so that my daughters can earn a respect for classic rock songs from pre-Gaga days. And, I encourage them to talk about these songs.
“Every Breath You Take” comes on.
Julianna: Daddy, what is this song about?
Me: Well, there’s a boy who really likes a girl, and he is basically stalking her.
I have said too much.
J: What’s stalking?
Me: Crap. Well, he wants to watch her all the time. And everything she does.
“Every move you make.
Every breath you take.
I’ll be watching you…”
J: That’s like really creepy
Isabella (she’s 7): Like in the bathroom?
J: That’s super creepy.
Me: Yeah, well… Maybe we should skip to the next song. [click.]
Iz (again, she’s 7): Daddy, what is a “very kinky girl?”
Iz: And, why would you not take her home to your mother?
I’m rethinking my whole philosophy that Rock and Roll should never be age-appropriate.
Julianna (she’s seven) and I are watching the Rock and Roll of Fame concert from 2009 on the Palladia channel. Paul Simon is singing with Crosby, Stills and Nash. They’re doing “The Sound of Silence.” It totally rocks.
J: Daddy, is this a good song?
Me: Oh, Honey. One of the best songs ever written. It is beautiful.
They finish. My eyes are welling up.
Then, Art Garfunkel comes out. Simon and Garfunkel do “The Boxer”… “Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue.” Glorious song-writing. Perfection.
At this point, I’m crying like a two-year-old.
J: Daddy.. Don’t be sad. I will have Lady Gaga and Nikki Minaj when I grow up.
Me: Unfortunately, yes you will.
Then Art Garfunkel takes center stage. I plead: Please don’t do “Bridge”…
Garfunkel: “When you’re weary, feeling small. When tears are in your eyes. I will dry them all.”
Dude… I’m a puddle in my own living room. In front of my second-grader. “Shhh.” I tell her. “Please let me have this…”
She backs off.
Then: Daddy can I have some ice cream?