I've shared what I call 'cute kid stories' with you over the years; I think they're cute, anyway. You people might think they're moronic and I'm wasting my computer's battery relaying it - but whatever. Here's another.
Ethan and Aaron are the kings of filling in words to songs when they don't know the correct lyrics. I confess that I do that, too; most singers have horrible diction, so unless you Google the words or listen a bazillion times, who can tell? With everything being electronic nowadays, you can't flip open the tape case, take out the insert and look at the words. (Yes. I just said TAPE CASE. I also had an 8 track or two. I am old. I'm starting to be okay with that.) Anyway, Ethan has "put another dot in the juicebox, baby," and then in turn corrected ME on Journey lyrics, but it's Aaron who is the focus of the malapropism, today.
He came in and struck a pose, first of all.
Lord, have mercy.
Then he rapped (I cannot believe I just typed that), "I wake up in the morning feeling like today."
I frown. That sounds like a song by the singer Kee-dollar sign-HA. I wouldn't normally know this, not being familiar with popular music past 1995, or if I'm completely honest, maybe something like 1988, but thanks to Glee (a show I watch when the kiddos are in school), the great music equalizer, I'm in the know.
I say to my child, "How do you feel 'like today?' That doesn't make any sense."
He replies, "I don't know. I didn't make up the words." (Smart aleck.)
I feel a little proud when I tell him the correct lyric. "I wake up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy."
Aaron makes a quizzical face. He mutters, "And that makes sense? What does that mean?"
Ethan has been smirking during this time, listening to the two very white people on the other side of the kitchen island. He asks, "Who is P. Diddy, Mom?" He asks this like it's a quiz. Like he's all of a sudden the world-wise fifth grader, about to show up his mother in matters of pop culture.
I, being me, cannot let this happen. I used to OWN all games of Trivial Pursuit. I all but got a degree in it, for heaven's sake. So I scramble, thinking, "Who the heck IS P. Diddy? He's a black guy, right? Is he a rapper? A fashion designer? Didn't his name used to be something else? I'm SURE that his name used to be something else and he changed it. Like Prince when he went to the symbol thingy that no one knew what to do with. I'm glad he's Prince again. That's just easier for everyone. But P. Diddy... is he that guy on the Pepsi Max commercials? No, no, that's Snoopy something... Damn it!"
But that was all in my head. I say confidently, "He's another singer." ('Singer' might be used loosely, here.)
Ethan squints. He knows something is up, but since that's technically the right answer, he lets it go.
Aaron shakes his head and dismisses all of it. "I like my words better," he says.
In hindsight, his caused a lot less grief for me. I say to my youngest, "Rock on, Aaron."
He replies, as they have since they were old enough to speak the words, "Rock on, Mom," and he leaves for school.
Once they're gone, I Google the right answer. And wonder where they heard a Ke$ha song.