Thursday, March 29, 2007

Mick and the Stones Were Singing to Me. . .

"With no loving in our souls and no money in our coats
You can't say we're satisfied
But Angie, I still love you baby, ev'rywhere I look I see your eyes
There ain't a woman that comes close to you, come on, baby,
Dry your eyes

But Angie, Angie, ain't it good to be alive
Angie, Angie, they can't say we never tried"
--M. Jagger/K. Richards


Poor Katie, I'm blaring the stereo this morning. She and James can certainly expect this from their father. Yep, my husband loves his music, and he's just a wee bit hard of hearing because of it, if you ask me. Anyway, the kids are used to hearing Daddy blasting the Cat Stevens' concert cd, turning the radio up louder for Beatles or Nirvana or Jethro Tull. What confuses them is when Mommy decides to play music. Isn't this the woman who's always uttering the dreaded, "Ow, that's hurting my ears, can you turn it down a bit"??

So, after I listened to Rod sing about Maggie May, I hunted out the Rolling Stones cd with the song "Angie" on it. Kate was already tired enough of my music selections that she'd willingly left the living room and starting straigtening up toys in their room. She wandered back in beside me when the first licks of "Street Fighting Man" exploded from the stereo. I got that "I'm almost 5, and my taste is 5 times better than yours" smirk from my own daughter for liking this song. So, I tried to change her mind about the Stones by telling her to listen. Shhh, listen, and see if you hear somebody's name you recognize. AAAAAAAAAAAAAnnnnnnnnnnn-gie! Well, finally got her interested at that. "Mommy, do they know you??" Heeeeheeee, that was tempting, but I told her the truth. Wouldn't want her to grow up thinking a song was written about her mom and then have her find out the disappointing truth. See, Pop? I showed some restraint, even though it was tempting. Unlike some people who tell gullible fifth graders that RIP stands for Rhode Island Police ;)

Anyway, break time is over, back to the housecleaning. Anybody ever figure out how paper and toys multiply overnight?? So, don't mind the noise if you pass by. It'll just be me, singing along and wishing I was already at the torch:

"I'm free to do what I want any old time..."
-Jagger and Richards

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