Chip off the Block

My oldest son is quite the character.  He thrives upon entertaining the masses and small crowds alike.  I'm not sure where he gets it from.  I have to admit, there is a swelling that arises in me every time I see him putting on a show.  As my mother says, it warms the cockles of my heart

He hasn't made it to the big time just yet.  Although last year he had a big part in the school Spring Fling play as Benny the Bull.  He was brilliant.  If I do say so.  His music teacher approached me to tell me how well had done in music class.  He does have a sweet little singing voice.  So recently I asked him if he might be interested in learning an instrument.  I was thinking something like the guitar or drums.  His response was, "Well.  Yeah. But the instrument I'd like to learn is the microphone."
Uhhhh....hmmm.  Ok, well.  "So you want to take voice lessons?'
"No.  I want to learn how to play the microphone."
"Ok.  Let me look into that." ?

I totally get his passion for music.  Once upon a time I was quite certain that I would front a band, a la Belinda Carlisle.  In the event that a karaoke machine presents itself I feel obligated to belt out my rendition of "Our Lips Are Sealed". (Given there is alcohol in the mix.) In my head I sound fantastic.  Though no one's approached me with a record contract just yet. 

We often have music blaring in our house.  We dance around and sing like a trio of dorks.  Now, it's ok for me to dance inside and as long as no one else could possibly see me.  God forbid we're in the car and I start doing my "shoulder dance".  Carter might well have a full blown anxiety attack.  "MOM!  STOP!  You, SO can not dance!"  Really?  I'm an awesome dancer.  Just ask my friends, sisters, nieces and nephew.  They'll tell you. 

My sister gave us Michael Jackson the Experience for our Wii this past Christmas as kind of a joke. It has, however, turned out to be practically the most prized possession in our home.  My boys and I and a multitude of babysitters have put some serious mileage on that game.  And, although I hold no high scores, I do consider myself quite a Michael conniseur as well as a slammin' dancer. (Insert laugh here.) So, when my 9-year old told me that I was doing the moonwalk wrong I had to beg to differ.  "Do you know who you're talking to here? I was a teenager when he first did the moonwalk on the 25 Years of Motown special that was on TV.  My friends and I spent endless hours watching and re-watching the videotape of it so that we could nail it!"
"What's a videotape?'
Sigh.
So, I put on a pair of socks, got on the hard floor and showed him my stuff.  He was marginally impressed.  His brother, on the other hand, thought it was "so cool!".  At least someone appreciates my skills.

I does crack me to watch him dance and sing along with the King of Pop.  Is there a future for him in the music industry?  Possibly.  Maybe he'll put Jacksonville on the map.  I just hope he remembers to thank his mom, his "inspiration" when he's accepting his Grammy.

So, here we are on another scorching summer afternoon getting a workout inside the house with Michael. 
"Hey, mom.  Don't you know the whole Thriller dance?"
"Yes I do.  But I retired it when Michael passed."  It just seemed like the right thing to do.