Not strong candidates for "Singing Bee."
Tonight on the drive home from across the Bay, L asked to hear "Aintnohollabackearl." She used to be obsessed with Gwen Stefani in early 2006, and that song is enjoying a recent resurgence in popularity.
Until she started the auditory processing therapy that we drive one hour each way across the Bay for three weeks every other month to attend, she never sang along to songs on the radio. That alone may make the drive and expense worth it to me. Ever wonder what length you'd go to to hear your kid sing? Well, I guess I can quantify it with a dollar figure and a mileage tally.
But I really do love hearing her sing along to the radio (Maroon 5 and Fall Out Boy are big favorites right now, and I don't even mind her questionable tween taste in music, so much do I love the sound of her little voice singing along from the back seat.) It makes my heart smile.
But really, if I must be honest (and of course, I must): she inherited her father's ability to understand and sing along with lyrics. That is to say that she completely lacks said ability. Which makes for a lot of "kids sing the darndest things" moments in the car. So back to tonight, with the rap section of Hollaback Girl:
L: A few times unintelligible unintelligible unintelligible unintelligible Not just going to unintelligible unintelligible unintelligible Cause I ainnohollabackirl.
Where's my sheep? Where's my sheep? Oooooh, Where's my sheep?
TJ, chiming in from the carseat across the way: Baaaah. Baaaaah.
Which reminds me, my younger daughter isn't so hot herself when it comes to deciphering song lyrics. Every night in the tub, we sing together. Usually we start with the Superman Theme song, as the background music to her floating on her tummy with her hands and feet stretched out like she's flying.
Then we move on to the ABC song. It's like sitting in on a taping of Wheel of Fortune's toddler week.
Me: "A b c d e f ...?"
Her: P! P? G? G. G!!!! G.
Me: H i j k l m n o ... ?
Her: P! X! P!
And so it goes.
How did I, a woman who knows all the words to Fuck the Police AND American Pie, give birth to two children who have no internal passion for getting the lyrics right?
Until she started the auditory processing therapy that we drive one hour each way across the Bay for three weeks every other month to attend, she never sang along to songs on the radio. That alone may make the drive and expense worth it to me. Ever wonder what length you'd go to to hear your kid sing? Well, I guess I can quantify it with a dollar figure and a mileage tally.
But I really do love hearing her sing along to the radio (Maroon 5 and Fall Out Boy are big favorites right now, and I don't even mind her questionable tween taste in music, so much do I love the sound of her little voice singing along from the back seat.) It makes my heart smile.
But really, if I must be honest (and of course, I must): she inherited her father's ability to understand and sing along with lyrics. That is to say that she completely lacks said ability. Which makes for a lot of "kids sing the darndest things" moments in the car. So back to tonight, with the rap section of Hollaback Girl:
L: A few times unintelligible unintelligible unintelligible unintelligible Not just going to unintelligible unintelligible unintelligible Cause I ainnohollabackirl.
Where's my sheep? Where's my sheep? Oooooh, Where's my sheep?
TJ, chiming in from the carseat across the way: Baaaah. Baaaaah.
Which reminds me, my younger daughter isn't so hot herself when it comes to deciphering song lyrics. Every night in the tub, we sing together. Usually we start with the Superman Theme song, as the background music to her floating on her tummy with her hands and feet stretched out like she's flying.
Then we move on to the ABC song. It's like sitting in on a taping of Wheel of Fortune's toddler week.
Me: "A b c d e f ...?"
Her: P! P? G? G. G!!!! G.
Me: H i j k l m n o ... ?
Her: P! X! P!
And so it goes.
How did I, a woman who knows all the words to Fuck the Police AND American Pie, give birth to two children who have no internal passion for getting the lyrics right?
