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Your Socks Are On Fire

Kings of Leon at FIB (Benicàssim).

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As a parent, I am constantly making split second decisions about my children on a daily basis. Can I have a cookie? No, it is too close to dinner. Do I have to wear my hat today? Yes, it is cold and windy. Can we listen to some kids music? No, it’s my turn to choose the music. For the most part, I am trying to impart healthy habits and teach them common sense. Okay , so the last example sounds a bit selfish. I don’t act that way all the time. I just don’t want my  children  to think that the world  is here to cater to them. I think it is healthy when a parent occasionally puts their priorities and interests first, as long as they are appropriate and will not cause harm. 

So, one day, the radio is on and the kids are in the back seat. A great song comes on and I crank it up, because I’m a car singer. My palm bounces off the steering wheel in syncopation to the drum/bass combination. I get lost in the guitar riff and when the chorus arrives, I panic. It’s split second decision time and I fumble for the volume and the fade knob at the same time. I lower the volume of the song emanating from the speakers and from my mouth.

Why? Well, it’s Kings of Leon singing “Sex on Fire”. We haven’t had the birds and bees discussion yet  and I don’t think the car is the best place for it to happen.  My imagination gets over excited from it’s recent 20 ounce latte and takes over right away with near perfect accuracy about what might happen if we drove down that path…..

Fire engines, ambulances and squad cars engage in dueling horn signals to reach the scene of the five car accident along North Clybourn Avenue first. People stare at me, the shaking thirty-something mother of two children,( one of which is asking questions in rapid machine-gun fire), trying to determine if I am the cause of the accident. Crowds of people gather  as the officer asks how the accident occurred. I fumble over my words , trying to explain my explanation about things that happen behind closed doors between  consenting adults while my  talkative child interrupts me to ask, “You do that?” The look on the officer’s face is a mixture between surprise, choked back laughter and sympathy. Onlookers, gape and gasp. The child continues to connect  the neurons in his brain cells.  I stand frozen, mortified, as a news camera microphone is thrust into my face…..

In a split second, I have avoided embarrassment and potential damage to my car, not to mention my reputation. For now, I will use the avoidance and tiny white lie strategy. Should the children ask what they are saying in the song (which they have been known to do), I’ll lie and tell them, your socks are on fire. But I suppose that if I go down that path, I will have to change the lyrics to many other songs that they might hear. U2 will be singing about socks and boots (“Sexy Boots”), George Michael will be singing about wanting someone elses socks ( “I Want Your Sex”,) Pink Floyd will be singing about a woman who needs to take a bath, (“Dirty Woman”) and Marcy Playground will be singing about the great combination of socks and candy (“Sex and Candy”).

At some point, it will be time to have “the talk” with my kids. And at some point I’ll have to explain what some musicians are really singing about. I would hate for them to grow to adulthood, only to find out that they have been singing the wrong lyrics the entire time. Do you how embarrassing it is to learn that it is NOT “The Sultans of Suede”?

Maybe I should have let them listen to the kids music.

8 thoughts on “Your Socks Are On Fire

  1. At least you weren’t listening to Nine Inch Nails. It’s kind of hard to Cee-Lo compromise on that one, so to speak. I would also avoid anything by Tenacious D for the time being. 😉

  2. Oh Amy! What pleasure I get from reading our tales. You are truly brillant! I love you and your work!

    Have beautiful days always~

    Charity Green

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