For my Father

On Sunday morning's the girls take control of the TV, and if I'm fixing breakfast, I'll use the Internet to listen to Pittsburgh radio station WDVE. WDVE is classic rock with various comedy bits from comedians and their morning show mixed in.

During this time, we invariably have music appreciation sessions which center on my attempts to determine if the girls like the song that's playing and making sure they understand the significance of artists like Metallica, Ozzy, Van Halen, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Red Rider and so on. Growing up, my father would insist on playing "his" music during meals, and I guess that is something I inherited.

This morning, McKenna was explaining why she didn't like the songs, pointing out "the music in mommy's car sounds like princesses, and this music and the music in daddy's car (brief pause) does not."

And at that moment, I was once again reminded that I was my father's son.

P.S. With the girls, the American Bandstand system ("It's got a good beat and I can dance to it. I give it a ten.") still holds true no matter what the song is. So strike up a little Jethro Tull and let the daddy/daughter dancing begin.


P.S.S. Later this morning in the van (mommy's car) as I pulled out of the driveway, McKenna said "See, this is a princess song!" The song was a duet of Faith Hill and Tim McGraw. So now we know!