My daughter is cursed. Not in the tragic Bronte sister quasi creepy romance sort of curse or anything sinister like that. And no, I’m not worried that her pokemon cards are going to suddenly spring to life and take a horrible vengeance while she is sleeping at night a la Stephen King. She does read far too many Captain Underpants books and I don’t even want to consider what sort of curse might be possible from a set of unwashed underwear. In her case, the curse is more of the genetic behavioral variety. The type of curse that’s good fodder for future psychoanalytical sessions. A few minutes ago I could hear her belting out some made up song at the top of her lungs. Lyrics that don’t make any sense and a spritely tune. Probably wild dancing motions with twirling arms. After laughing for a couple of minutes, I inevitably asked the obvious question: where on earth did this behavior come from? And then I remembered all the dumb songs I sing to our dog in the morning. Yup, she’s cursed. Some day my child is going to have kids of her own and they are going to roll their eyes at her as she sings silly songs while getting them out of bed. And the next thing they know, they will be singing what can only be summed up as a grotesque sea chanty. I hope I am there to hear it.
Luckily for both of us there is Pandora. As I write this blog, Ella and I are listening to the greatest hits of the 80s while we eat our raisin bran. It’s hard to believe that this is truly “oldies” type music now.
Ella has her Swim-A-Thon this evening. This is the big fund-raising event for Ella’s swim team. Each of our kids endeavors to complete as many laps as possible all the while asking for contributions from family and friends for the event. Here’s a hint – if you donate to an even like this, I wouldn’t recommend making a contribution per lap. Last year as a seven-year old Ella did 178 laps. I don’t know about you but I can’t imagine doing that many circuits around a pool. As an observer, it’s almost like NASCAR but a whole lot slower. Plus you don’t have to worry about getting hit by a renegade tire or having the person next to you spill beer all over you. In all honesty, I’ve never quite understood the attraction of watching cars go around in a circle 500 times. Not that I don’t appreciate the skill and nerves that make it possible, I just don’t get it.
Today is an “in service” day for Ella at her school so we get a few extra minutes together this AM. I’m not sure if there’s time enough for a song but I bet we can manage it.