Left of the Dial

Sign o' the Times?

So we hop in the car and I'm driving the two middle girls to piano and they haven't stopped chattering once since well before we'd left the house. I've just pulled out of the driveway and as I flip on the radio "Sweet Child o' Mine" is starting up—it's the build-up as the drums kick in, right before Axl starts singing. 

The moment the song comes on, all talk stops instantly. After the first verse and one chorus, the Bean finally speaks. "Dad? What is this? I mean, what's the name of the song and who's singing?" 

I look back as I start to answer and I see the 12-year-old is gently headbanging, an intense look in her eyes.

Should I be worried? 

Fists and Roses

So the 2-year-old comes trotting down the hall. He stops when he sees me and beams. Some sister has carefully arranged a beautiful circlet on his head just so, its flowers half buried in his curly hair, the ribbons hanging down in ever so lovely a manner. 

He stands there a moment so I can admire. Then a gleam comes into his eye and he charges, slamming into me full force, trying as hard as he can to knock me down. Despite his best efforts, he doesn't. Instead, he bounces off and sits down hard and proceeds to belly laugh for half a minute before getting up and trotting off again. 

Boys are different.