I swear I've told this story before, but I can't seem to find it on the blog - and I don't have the benefit of seeing your eyes glaze over...soooooo I'll just proceed here.
The sun decided to come out today - and I needed it. Didn't realize how much I needed it until I saw it. I went out and hung laundry (hopscotching over dog turds, which is another story - one that will probably remain untold) and soaked in the sun. And (here's where the story comes in) found myself humming the Beatles song, "Here Comes the Sun". Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh - the sun!!!!!!!
Ok, so - "Here Comes the Sun" is playing away in my brain and I'm humming and hearing the lyrics - - except I'm hearing my lyrics, which are different from the original ones.
My lyrics include the name of my son. When he was a baby I used to sing (yea, frightening thought - but little ones don't care about voice range, tune carrying and such): "Here comes the sun, Little Harry, here comes the sun and I say..."
No harm in that - lots of mamas insert their wee ones names into songs, right? I am right about that aren't I? That's not another Square-Peg trait, is it?? Let's presume I'm right - and this is "normal" behavior. No problem unless the wee one never hears the original - and Mama neglects to mention to said wee one, that the version she's singing isn't the real version.
Because really, where would that fit into the singing?? "Here comes the sun, Little Harry, here comes the sun and I say - this is the fake version" - just doesn't have the flow, you know?
Harry (aka Manchild) was old when he first heard the Beatles' version of the lyrics and he was confused. Let me define what I mean by "old" - the truth is I don't remember exactly how old he was. I know he wasn't yet 40, but he was at least 8.
We were in the living room and I guess Slightly-Brit had the radio on in the kitchen.* "Here Comes the Sun" was playing, and Manchild stopped whatever he was doing - looked at me oddly - perplexed - and asked: "Where's the 'Little Harry' part?"
Gulp. I explained that our version, the one he'd heard me sing repeatedly since birth, was not the real one - and that I didn't realize he hadn't heard the original - and never considered that all his young life he'd assumed that our version was the original. Never occurred to me, not something I meant to disorient him with.
He claimed it was no big deal, but I swear I saw the wheels turning. He might have another story, but I think I did something (inadvertently) like pulling the rug out on Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and even the Valentine's Man - all at once! All of a sudden giving him reason to wonder what else this odd woman (who keeps insisting she's his mother) set him up for in life.
Make hay while the sun shines, Don't count your chickens until they hatch, It's always darkest before the dawn, Muzzle your mother lest she sing, People in glass houses shouldn't - Ack! There should be a moral to this story, but I can't find the right one - sigh...
*I often forget that there is such a thing as music - and am reminded when someone else has something playing. Which is cool, kinda, because it's like this great discovery every time. And whenever it happens I swear to myself that I'll remember music, because it's such a mood lifter and life blesser - such a great gift - and a tool I can use to help boost gratitude and joy -- but I don't remember. So I don't access that wonderful tool as often as I could, but I also get the joy of discovery every time I re-remember music.