My son loves music. Loves it. When he hears it he puts his fingers in the air, wiggles his butt, and does what Mr. ZM and I like to call the hippie dance. It's totally un-self conscious and completely hilarious.
A few weeks ago, I got hooked on a song that I heard in a movie. The song is "Galway Girl" by Steve Earle. It combines two of my favorite things: songs about Ireland and an excellent guitarist. Baby ZM became hooked on it as well and going with the repetitive nature of 2 year olds, insists on listening to it over and over and over in the car. As much as I like the song, after about the 5th time I search in vain to distract him while punching desperately at buttons to get to the next track on the CD. There are reasons for the saying "too much of a good thing" people. But the distraction merely lasts for a few opening notes of a different song before a protest ensues from the backseat. It's a small car, and I value my hearing, so I figure I'm allowed to pick my battles. And I gave up. Thank God for the repeat button.
I woke up one morning last week really not looking forward to yet another day of more of the same. Needless to say I was pretty much in a foul mood knowing what I had to deal with once I got to my office desk. As I was backing out of the driveway, Baby ZM piped up from the backseat. "Mommy! Happy Song!!" Of course I had no idea of what he was talking about, but hedging my bets, I punched the button to start the Galway Girl. When he heard the opening notes start, his face lit up and he said "Happy Song Mommy! Happy song!!".
And you know what I figured out? It really is. . .
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