My daughter really, really, really wants an MP3 player. Really, really. She won't stop bugging us about it, but . . . Christmas, it turns out, isn't until December.
Anyway, the other day, my husband wasn't using his (which he often uses for recording lectures) so he let her listen for a while.
Next thing I know, I see her dancing all around the house with big head phones on. "I LOVE The Eagles," she exclaims--the name of the band she only knows because it is emblazoned on the display in bright blue letters.
She was dancing a with a little less vigor for the next song. On through Christopher Cross, Joe Jackson, and Hall & Oats, she listened, with her dancing and be-bopping becoming more and more sluggish. By the fourth or fifth song, she was sitting on the couch with a concerned look on her face.
"Dad has weird music," was all she could say.
Led Zeppelin and America didn't really speak to me when I was eight.
Should I tell her that even though he's been in the news a lot lately, this was a pretty big part of my childhood?
And that, though you can find these new at Claire's, they are actually twenty-five years old?
Yeah, get used to it. You're parents' stuff is comin' back!