As with Jack, starting way back when, I've been teaching Charlie what I know and love about music. During the past few months, Jack, Charlie, and I have embarked on Ph.D.-style lessons in the music of Devo, The Black Crowes, Erykah Badu, the B-52's, Led Zeppelin, Lenny Kravitz, and Michael Jackson, to name a few. (There are a lot of people to learn about. We're cramming.)
Over these past months I've been impressed with Charlie's musical ear. In the car he pleads "I wan sound! I wan sound!" until we pop in a CD. Sometimes, he can name that tune in just three notes. And he dances like he was born in a mosh pit. Not bad for a boy who is just a few weeks short of two years old. But what has thrilled me the most of late is our time, just Charlie and me, driving in the car. Without the strong musical opinions of Charlie's older brother to contend with, we can just drive along listening to anything I want. Charlie is simply content to listen.
But Charlie is selective. After certain songs are played, a small voice, bubbling with enthusiasm, emerges from the back seat:
"A good song!"
"Yes, Charlie," I reply, beaming. "I like that one too."
He's chimed in with his little sentiment many times for particular songs over and over again. And then, today, he surprised me. I was vacuuming upstairs. Charlie was dancing and running around me as I pushed and pulled. And then I turned the vacuum off.
"A good song!"
Hmm. Well. Yes, he surprised me all right. Back to class we go.
Although the sound of a vacuum is very punk rock, don't you think?
