09 July 2007

another way in which he takes after his father

Those of you who know James know that he is a mini-Greg. I'm pretty sure the only things he inherited from me are a love of reading, excessive sweating while sleeping, and a propensity for whining and melodrama. So it really shouldn't surprise me, at this point, when another Greg-like quality emerges. But it's still a little disappointing sometimes.

James has finally, within the last year or two, started liking adult music. We've played him bands like Weezer, Franz Ferdinand, Flogging Molly, They Might Be Giants, the Pet Shop Boys, and the Beatles, all of which he's liked. So on Saturday, as we're driving from my mom's to meet Greg and some friends at the lake, I decided to put on a mixed tape that my sister made for me, oh, about 10 years ago. I couldn't really remember what was on it, but I remembered that I used to like it pretty well.

One thing you should know about me is that I don't claim to have good taste in music. I know what is good, and I like to listen to good music, but I also listen to a lot of crappy music. I know that it's terrible, horrible music, but I like it. Terrible music is often the best stuff to sing along to.

So the first song to come on when I put on the mystery tape was a John Denver song! I was psyched; I started singing along. "Country roooooaaaads, take me hooooome..."

"Mom," James whined, "I don't like this song."

"It'll be over soon," I replied, and went back to my singing.

James continued to whine for the duration of the song. Okay, so he's not a John Denver fan. I can't fault him for that.

The next song to come on was one I really love to sing along to, so I turned it up a little. I mean, who doesn't love Air Supply? "Makin' looo-oooove outta nothing a-at all -- Makin' love! Outta nothing at all! Makin' love!"

Well, you would have thought I'd invented some kind of new, particularly evil torture method and inflicted it on my son. James started crying: "Turn it off, Mom! Turn it off!" He covered his ears with his hands, and tried to curl into a fetal position, as much as the seat belt would allow, anyway. For the whole duration of the song (which, being the sadistic parent I am, did not turn off), James continued whining, crying, pleading, begging me to TURN IT OFF I HATE THIS SONG.

I just sat there thinking, Your father would be so proud of you.

When we got to the lake and I told Greg the story, he nearly wept with pride. Well, no, but he laughed, a lot, and said, "Yeah, James! Good boy!"

It is becoming more and more clear as the years go by that these boys will always join forces to outvote me. Ah, well, Evan's still young; maybe he'll be interested in Air Supply. But, knowing him, I'm not holding my breath.

5 comments:

Jessica said...

Don't worry, Heid, we'll go do Karaoke together soon -- no boys allowed. You can sing your heart out to Air Supply!

karen said...

There's a part of me that is saying, "Don't worry, Heidi - there is no such thing as 'crappy' taste in music - ALL music is good, it's just a matter of perspective!"

There is also a part of me thinking, "Good boy, James, good boy." =0)

and rudeness said...

HAHAHAHAHA! This cracked me up so hard! Air Supply... hehe.

And I can imagine with a house full of boys you are constantly being ganged up on!

Julie said...

Oh man that's so funny! It was really fun getting to meet your boys at Ren's wedding!

Kristy said...

I love that Air Supply song! I wouldn't have turned it off either....but your story made me laugh a lot :-)