Random Bits

One of Hap’s responsibilities is feeding Lola (much to Happy’s joy and Lola’s dismay).  Usually, the feeding happens after Happy’s dressed and his hair has been done for the day.  But this day, Happy insisted on padding on out there to do his ‘chore’ first thing.  Faux hawk for your enjoyment.     

So, Happy is obsessed with music.  When we get in the car, he says, matter of factly and very enthusiastically, I NEED music.  And from the way he says it, I think he does indeed need music, he doesn’t just want it.  Once the music is on, if it’s a song that doesn’t speak to him, he says, “I need other music.”  If it’s a song that does speak to him but I’ve been too conservative with the volume, he says, “I need MORE music.”  The other day, we were driving down the road when Forget You came on the radio.  As soon as it was done, he said, “I need more forget you.”  It took BF and I a good 60 seconds to figure out that Happy had figured out the chorus in the song and was asking for the song by name.  Cee-lo Green’s youngest fan.  We’re so proud.

But, because BF secretly loves the song Forget You and because it was so funny that Happy asked for it, I decided to get myself to the music store to buy the CD for Happy to give BF for BF’s birthday.  Except when I got there, they didn’t have the radio version of Forget You on the disc.  And, well, even I know that a 2 year old doesn’t need to be hearing the original version of Cee-lo’s track.  So I passed on the CD.  And then, inexplicably, I found myself explaining to the very alternative, smokes Clove cigarettes, reads heady novels on his break music-area employee (who actually reminds me of my best high school guy friend who was all those things, too) that I wasn’t a censoring person in general, but that I needed the clean(er) version if my two year old was going to hear it.  I’m sure he was just like yeah, yeah, yeah, lady, move along.  So, it’s official, I am the crazy mom.  Not so much because I don’t want my kid to hear the dirty version of Cee-Lo’s song but because I feel the need to explain myself to the hip alternative-music dude.  Hey, dude, I used to be just like you.  I love(d) The Smiths and Sinead O’Connor.  And then I had a two year old and I can only love them on my time.

I went to preschool with inside out clothes again last week.  Once is bad.  Twice is just shameful, right?  I swear, though, when it feels like you are constantly in a race, taking the time to see if your clothes are on right is just too much time.  Somebody please agree with me.