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Dreading her teenage years...
Dec. 7th, 2002 02:09 pmI think I may have witnessed the definitive Abbey Moment:
Abbey: (pointing to a picture of herself on the wall) Hey, Daddy! Guess who that is!
Me: That? Ohhhh, that's the Queen of England.
Abbey: Almost.
Surviving Abbey is always an adventure. As I've reported often, I'm doing a pretty good job with corrupting her on good music. That said, there's some music I'd rather not corrupt her on. The other day, when we were in the van, I moved a CD case that was resting on the little tray table between the front seats, forgetting that under said CD case was my copy of Voodoo U by Lords of Acid (yes, the one with the detailed Satanic lesbian sex cartoon on the cover). I put the other CD on top of it as quickly as I could.
Not quickly enough. "Daddy, what's that one?"
I don't think she could really see what was on the cover from where she was, especially since it wasn't uncovered for long, but for crying out loud... "Oh, honey, no. That's bad music."
That certainly got her attention; her ears practically grew points. "Bad music? Why? Whyyyy? I wanna hear it!"
Ai yi yi... I finally acquiesced, hoping that the music would be too harsh even for her sophisticated sensibilities. But there was still the issue of choosing a track that wouldn't scar her for life or have her using interesting new vocabulary words in kindergarten. "The Crab Louse"? No. "Do What You Want to Do"? God, no. I considered "Mr. Macho Man" very briefly, until I sang the lyrics in my head: "Hey Mr. Macho Man, is it true, that all the girls wanna..." ACK! No no no no no....
I finally settled on "Gonna Make You Sweat," which is basically a chant with an industrial background, keeping my thumb on the eject button just in case I'd forgotten a gratuitous "fuck" or some such. She liked it. She starts at the boarding school on Monday. [Note to self: Do not listen to Lords of Acid in the car. Or at least keep it in the glove compartment, for crying out loud.]
Oh, and she had her Official Parent-Teacher-Student Conference yesterday. She's doing great. Thank you, O powers that be.
Abbey: (pointing to a picture of herself on the wall) Hey, Daddy! Guess who that is!
Me: That? Ohhhh, that's the Queen of England.
Abbey: Almost.
Surviving Abbey is always an adventure. As I've reported often, I'm doing a pretty good job with corrupting her on good music. That said, there's some music I'd rather not corrupt her on. The other day, when we were in the van, I moved a CD case that was resting on the little tray table between the front seats, forgetting that under said CD case was my copy of Voodoo U by Lords of Acid (yes, the one with the detailed Satanic lesbian sex cartoon on the cover). I put the other CD on top of it as quickly as I could.
Not quickly enough. "Daddy, what's that one?"
I don't think she could really see what was on the cover from where she was, especially since it wasn't uncovered for long, but for crying out loud... "Oh, honey, no. That's bad music."
That certainly got her attention; her ears practically grew points. "Bad music? Why? Whyyyy? I wanna hear it!"
Ai yi yi... I finally acquiesced, hoping that the music would be too harsh even for her sophisticated sensibilities. But there was still the issue of choosing a track that wouldn't scar her for life or have her using interesting new vocabulary words in kindergarten. "The Crab Louse"? No. "Do What You Want to Do"? God, no. I considered "Mr. Macho Man" very briefly, until I sang the lyrics in my head: "Hey Mr. Macho Man, is it true, that all the girls wanna..." ACK! No no no no no....
I finally settled on "Gonna Make You Sweat," which is basically a chant with an industrial background, keeping my thumb on the eject button just in case I'd forgotten a gratuitous "fuck" or some such. She liked it. She starts at the boarding school on Monday. [Note to self: Do not listen to Lords of Acid in the car. Or at least keep it in the glove compartment, for crying out loud.]
Oh, and she had her Official Parent-Teacher-Student Conference yesterday. She's doing great. Thank you, O powers that be.
