I knew early on that the volatile mixture of my wife's DNA with mine was going to give us an interesting life together...I could never have guessed it would be like this.
I can remember an instance when my daughter was 2, that made me laugh until I damned near peed myself. I was in the backyard putting a mean case of char on a hapless chicken when my wife sticks her head out the back door and summons our little angel for a fresh coating of anti-skeeter spritz.
The little darling stops mid-stride. Hoists a matched set of rock-n-roll hands into the air and announces, "Here I come and hell's coming with me!!"
That hurts. She's been a fan of Ozzy since she had the dexterity to make a rock-n-roll hand sign and bang her head in her car seat. Isn't that special?
My oldest son, well, you can see what kind of a challenge he is going to be. His personal mantra seems to be, "If I can't knock it down with a head-butt I will respect it. If I can knock it down, i will eat it." OY! But when he isn't knocking stuff over, he can jump around with the music with the best of them.
My most recent moment of pride though was this morning and it came from my baby boy. Kid #3. I had the old Sirius radio fired up and was belting out a slightly off key rendition of Stroke by Billy Squire. I turn around to see the baby throwing his hands in the air and bouncing in time to the music.
For someone who gave up a music career to live in the real world, (how the hell did I become an accountant?) it give me a small measure of comfort to see my kids enjoying music too.