In the car today, my four-year old started singing random thoughts that enter his head. He was seriously freestyling, his lyrics could have gone right onto a rock and roll album.
Baby, baby! Baby, baby baby!
I don’t care about that, I don’t care about that
O no, o no (“say it mama! Say o no o no!” “O no, o no!” “Good work mama!”)
I don’t like dogs. And cats are bad!
I don’t care about that, I don’t care. Yet!
(At this point, he broke off to tell Mrs. Muttrox not to drum because he was already drumming. She looked at me with a dropped jaw and said, “Have I just been kicked out of the band!?”)
There’s LIGHTINING UP AHEAD!!! (shrieked)
O no, I don’t care.
I won’t do it… I don’t like that car. Cars are bad!
I don’t care and I won’t care!!!!
YET!!!
that rocked, no lie.
You oughta take him to a poetry slam.
I think he’s just outed you for listening to Hall & Oates. Busted.
D&D could have used that kid — he could have been our Bernie Taupin.
A few more years of development, and he’ll graduate to “We had to work, we could not shirk, we had to work work work work work…”