One sunny Sunday afternoon, my son and I were trying to put together a 1000 piece puzzle while listening to music.
Old School music it was. The Nineties hits I should say, and I was singing along to each and every song the radio deejay would play.
I grew up in the nineties and part of growing up then was getting song lyrics from newspapers, and cramming them.
We had the 200-page exercise books in which we would paste newspaper clippings. When that was not possible, we would just write down the lyrics.
That means I know the lyrics to most of the nineties hits or the music that played in that period.
Back to the puzzle. Every time a new song plays, my son pauses to look at me, just to see if I know the lyrics to that one too.
He is ten years old and is usually very quiet.
He takes in his surroundings in great detail. Nothing escapes his eyes or ears.
He starts laughing.
"Why are you laughing?" I ask.
"Ma, how come you know all the songs playing?" He calls me Ma.
I try to paint as clear a picture about my teenage years and how we would try to not only know the actual lyrics to the song, but the dance moves in the video as well.
Then, one of those latest West African songs is played.
The song excites me to do a jig just like I have been seeing in the video.
My son of course sees this, and surprise is written all over his face.
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"You know that song too! And even how its danced?" he asks.
"But of course and I have even watched the video. Why are you so surprised?"
He chuckles and rolls his eyes. This is what he does when he does not want to say what is on his mind.
"But it is not an old song like the ones that have been playing before that," he says.
"No its not. And what does that got to do with the fact that I know its lyrics and the dance moves as they are in the video?" I ask.
He just looks at me, smiling.
I cannot tell what he is thinking.
But I am really curious, so I probe further.
"Mr. T, why are you surprised that I know the lyrics to a current song?"
T is the first letter of his two names.
"I didn't think you'd know the songs that I know," he responds as a matter of fact.
"And why is that?"
"Because, Ma, you are way, way older than me," he says.
Yeah. My son thinks I am too old.
Lydia Limbe
My son thinks I am too old to sing and dance
One sunny Sunday afternoon, my son and I were trying to put together a 1000 piece puzzle while listening to music.
Old School music it was. The Nineties hits I should say, and I was singing along to each and every song the radio deejay would play.
I grew up in the nineties and part of growing up then was getting song lyrics from newspapers, and cramming them.
We had the 200-page exercise books in which we would paste newspaper clippings. When that was not possible, we would just write down the lyrics.
That means I know the lyrics to most of the nineties hits or the music that played in that period.
Back to the puzzle. Every time a new song plays, my son pauses to look at me, just to see if I know the lyrics to that one too.
He is ten years old and is usually very quiet.
He takes in his surroundings in great detail. Nothing escapes his eyes or ears.
He starts laughing.
"Why are you laughing?" I ask.
"Ma, how come you know all the songs playing?" He calls me Ma.
I try to paint as clear a picture about my teenage years and how we would try to not only know the actual lyrics to the song, but the dance moves in the video as well.
Then, one of those latest West African songs is played.
The song excites me to do a jig just like I have been seeing in the video.
My son of course sees this, and surprise is written all over his face.
"You know that song too! And even how its danced?" he asks.
"But of course and I have even watched the video. Why are you so surprised?"
He chuckles and rolls his eyes. This is what he does when he does not want to say what is on his mind.
"But it is not an old song like the ones that have been playing before that," he says.
"No its not. And what does that got to do with the fact that I know its lyrics and the dance moves as they are in the video?" I ask.
He just looks at me, smiling.
I cannot tell what he is thinking.
But I am really curious, so I probe further.
"Mr. T, why are you surprised that I know the lyrics to a current song?"
T is the first letter of his two names.
"I didn't think you'd know the songs that I know," he responds as a matter of fact.
"And why is that?"
"Because, Ma, you are way, way older than me," he says.
Yeah. My son thinks I am too old.