I have first hand evidence that kids have minds like sponges. Some months ago, I was idly scanning channels on the satellite radio while sitting in the car outside a local grocery store. I came across Beastie Boys’ “Brass Monkey” on one station, and thought, “Cool! I haven’t heard this in forever!” Being a little bored, I cranked up the volume a bit and started lip syncing. This is one of the better party tunes by BB, better than the Other Song That Got Played Way Too Much. Even today I loathe to speak its name. So anyway, I’m having a great time yelling to the chorus, and I realize I forgot something. No, not the part about “this girl walked by, she gave me the eye, I reached inna locker an’ grabbed the Spanish fly”; I forgot that the Wee Lass was strapped in the car seat behind me. Oh, lovely.
“Daddy.”
(no answer)
“Daddeeee! It’s too llooouuuddd!”
“Whaa..? Oh, sorry sweetie!”
I turned my head to see my darling bud clapping her hands over her ears and a scrunched up face. I turned the volume down as quickly as I could. Wee Lass says, “What’s that Daddy? What’s that song?”
Hmmm. How to explain this to such a young, innocent girl, my baby? So I did what any sensible adult would do: I didn’t tell her the truth. I explained that it was just a funny song about a monkey (a band) who likes to go to parties (drink) and have fun with his friends (hookup with the ladies). Her response was “Oh. That’s a funny song.” Sheepishly, I flipped the station over to XM Kids or something, hoping that “I’ve Got A Butt” by Uncle Jim or something like it would come on and offer a distraction. It worked. At least, I thought it did.
Weeks later, I was chauffeuring Her Cuteness to day care and out of the blue, she says “I wanna hear the monkey song!” I asked her if she meant “Five little monkeys jumpin’ on the bed!” and she emphatically said “No, no, the brass monkey song!” Gulp. I told her I didn’t have the song and she got all weepy and “Iwannahearthemonkeysooonnnggnowww!” and I promised her I would try and find it. I put in a request to my Big Bro, who is quite handy with all things digital, and he burned me my very own greatest (bizarre) hits CD featuring “Brass Monkey”. The Wee Lass was so excited when she found out I had THE SONG. This translated into listening to it every day. In the car, on the way to day care, and sometimes on our way to other places. I was relieved she seemed to be focused much more on the beat than the lyrics. She learned to groove to it. She bops her head, and shakes her booty (well, as much as could be shaken in a car seat) and it made her laugh.
This morning she asked for it again, after a hiatus of about three weeks. She had her bunny toy, ‘Hoppy’, and apparently Hoppy was going to dance for us. The music started (she loves that initial ‘whonk-whonk’ of sax and bass) and Hoppy was tearin’ it up! In a stroke of genius, I started singing “Brass bunny, that funny bunny!” in the chorus. I say ‘genius’, only because Wee Lass started giggling and giggling. We both were laughing and singing ‘Brass bunny’ when we pulled into the parking lot. That was the best start to a workday I have had in too long.
“Daddy.”
(no answer)
“Daddeeee! It’s too llooouuuddd!”
“Whaa..? Oh, sorry sweetie!”
I turned my head to see my darling bud clapping her hands over her ears and a scrunched up face. I turned the volume down as quickly as I could. Wee Lass says, “What’s that Daddy? What’s that song?”
Hmmm. How to explain this to such a young, innocent girl, my baby? So I did what any sensible adult would do: I didn’t tell her the truth. I explained that it was just a funny song about a monkey (a band) who likes to go to parties (drink) and have fun with his friends (hookup with the ladies). Her response was “Oh. That’s a funny song.” Sheepishly, I flipped the station over to XM Kids or something, hoping that “I’ve Got A Butt” by Uncle Jim or something like it would come on and offer a distraction. It worked. At least, I thought it did.
Weeks later, I was chauffeuring Her Cuteness to day care and out of the blue, she says “I wanna hear the monkey song!” I asked her if she meant “Five little monkeys jumpin’ on the bed!” and she emphatically said “No, no, the brass monkey song!” Gulp. I told her I didn’t have the song and she got all weepy and “Iwannahearthemonkeysooonnnggnowww!” and I promised her I would try and find it. I put in a request to my Big Bro, who is quite handy with all things digital, and he burned me my very own greatest (bizarre) hits CD featuring “Brass Monkey”. The Wee Lass was so excited when she found out I had THE SONG. This translated into listening to it every day. In the car, on the way to day care, and sometimes on our way to other places. I was relieved she seemed to be focused much more on the beat than the lyrics. She learned to groove to it. She bops her head, and shakes her booty (well, as much as could be shaken in a car seat) and it made her laugh.
This morning she asked for it again, after a hiatus of about three weeks. She had her bunny toy, ‘Hoppy’, and apparently Hoppy was going to dance for us. The music started (she loves that initial ‘whonk-whonk’ of sax and bass) and Hoppy was tearin’ it up! In a stroke of genius, I started singing “Brass bunny, that funny bunny!” in the chorus. I say ‘genius’, only because Wee Lass started giggling and giggling. We both were laughing and singing ‘Brass bunny’ when we pulled into the parking lot. That was the best start to a workday I have had in too long.
My little princess still has no idea what the song is really about, and if I am careful, she will not know for quite some time. I’ll let her figure it out on her own. Until then, I’ll play it for her when she asks, and we’ll keep belting out ‘Brass Bunny’ for a good laugh. Now, if I could just find a turntable…
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I had a "blare the music" moment yesterday and it left me wondering if my child belonged to me. He told me "Don't listen to Let The Bodies Hit The Floor at full blast because it will hurt your ears." *Gasp* He can't be mine.
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