Long story short, I’m not an awesome singer. I don’t think I’m the worst singer either because, you know, I've seen enough The Voice and American Idol episodes, but I can't say I'll be signing a recording contract anytime soon. Still, I sing on the regular and, because my son has yet to reach the age where he can voice his disdain, I'm going to assume he (clearly) likes it. Or not. I don't know, actually. I spent a fair share of my time (while belting that falsetto) wondering what my kid thinks about my singing, but those thoughts don't stop me from continuing to harmonize. Sorry, kid. In fact, more often than not I am signing especially for my son, so here's hoping he enjoys it, right?
If you’ve ever knocked on my door or called my phone, or had to wait forever for me to reply to a text, please accept my humble apologies. I may or may not have been listening to pop music at an insanely high volume, and missed your attempts to reach out. I don’t present this information because I think I’m unique, but just to give context, because it’s not like I haven’t been exposed to good music. I guess I could blame my less-than-stellar pipes on the music selection I was raised on, but in the end it's as simple as; I like my jams and singing to them and dancing to them and the moments that I spent singing and dancing with my son are, regardless of said tunes or my voice, the absolute best.
Which is why I think I have a very good idea of not just what my kid thinks when I sing, but what every kid thinks when their parents are belting out their favorite jam, even if it's a tad off-key. I mean, if it either gets them to wiggle around or fall asleep, we're winning.
"Keep Singing Mom I Love It You're The Best This Is So Much Fun"
You guys, my son is just starting to sing and bounce along with my "performances," so this clearly means my singing is only improving. It's only a matter of time before we take our show on the road.
"Now You’re Dancing Too? I’m The Luckiest Boy Ever!"
How young is too young for Bieber video choreography? Eighteen months? Two years? Asking for a friend.
"Sorry Mom But I'm Laughing At You, Not With You"
It's cool, he's young enough that his laughter is still music to my ears, which, as you can imagine, only makes me want to dance and sing even more. It's a heavenly cycle of joy.
"I Know You Are Singing Inappropriate Pop Songs But I Don’t Care"
Alright, truth time. When my son was young enough that I could still blame the lapse in judgment on sleep deprivation, I asked my partner, "Why don't more parents just sing our own favorite songs to our kids? It's way more fun than lullabies." My partner looked at me and said, "Um, because eventually they understand the words." Oh, yeah. Right.
"Please Hurry Up And Tell Me What Happened After The Spider Went Up The Waterspout?"
You're going to have to wait, son. We need to get through the hand motions first. Priorities.
"Does Dad Know About These Backstreet Boys? Because You Talk About Them A Lot."
Yes, your father knows about them. He forgives me. Most days.
"You Realize That I’m Going To Grow Up And Aspire To Be In A Boyband Now, Right?"
I'm counting on it. Wait, who said that? I totally support you pursuing any and all career paths you find fulfilling (after we've exhausted all avenues to make you a pop superstar, of course).
"At Least You're Good At Other Things"
Yes, like, including but not limited to: ignoring negative comments about my singing
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\[ and pretending not to notice when you are trying to ignore me. I see you, little guy. I see you.
