So, its getting bad. Yet I am powerless to stop this. My 6 year old is taking an interest in music, and despite my lengthy campaigns to saturate her growing tastes with The Beatles, Stones, Talking Heads, David Bowie (early), hell, even Edith Piaf, youth’s relentless tendency toward awful has won out.
There we are on a 45 minute drive out to Walnut Creek. I make the mistake of plugging my phone into the dashboard. Its too late. She senses weakness. “Daddy, can we listen to music”. Seems harmless. “Sure sweetie, good idea”. “Dad, can we listen my my music”. Oh, that seems adorable. She is developing her own tastes. And I, an encouraging parent, want to see that rewarded. “Of course love”. “Can you put on ‘I’m Glad you Came'”.
Are you *$&(ing kidding me? I mean, where does she find this *&%^? I spent the last decade of my life avoiding any club that would even OWN, much less play this pap.
But I am a Dad.
It gets worse. I mean, of course because there is nothing a 6 year old loves more than bad boy band music than repetition, we listen to it 5 times. I know I am going insane because I am starting to like it.
But then, she tells me she wants to save the next listen for Nana’s house. What? God yes, let’s!
” But Daddy, can you put on ‘PonPonPon’. I ran a search. This is a thing. Now, this is more than a thing. HOW THE *$#&^ DOES MY DAUGHTER EVEN KNOW WHAT J POP IS!?
Oh, good Christ. So I am typing this from the basement with a loaded 9mm and a bottle of scotch and shaking hands trying to cleanse this out of my memory.
I love you sweetheart. Even enough to listen to: