Maybe There Is Something To This "Baby Mozart"

When you found out you were pregnant, what was one of your greatest fears? That's right--Barney. You were afraid that you'd end up with your last remaining brain cells jumping to their deaths in front of a big purple dinosaur with a goofy voice that your child loved with every fiber of their being.

At least that was my fear. Because, despite being the Mistress of All Evil, I am a sucker for my children and if they love something, I encourage it, and even participate--as much as I can. So, if my kidlets had fallen for Barney, I would suck it up and support them.

Which doesn't mean that I didn't take preventive measures. As an explicit attempt to pre-empt Barney-love in our first born, Mr. Sweetie and I took our 5 1/2 months pregnant selves to see the reunion of the Suburbs.

Those of you unfamiliar with the Suburbs must correct this imbalance immediately--they were the dream team of local new wave rockers back in the day. Funky hair, natty suits, on-stage delerium tremens, set to a great beat you could really dance to. Songs like Drinking With An Angel, Love Is The Law, and Music for Boys were all you could ask of a band from the mid 80s. They were the best, and for no understandable reason, they never really broke nationally--I guess their time was cut short by the rise of Prince and "The Minneapolis Sound" (which the Suburbs didn't sound like) and the possible detox stays of the lead singer. Life, and the recording business, are unfair.

But on a sunny June afternoon in 1993, the boys were back and we were bopping. The boys were talking about reuniting permanently and re-releasing all the old music while making new stuff. And, in utero, The Pony picked up the music, and saw it was good.

So our firstborn never did like Barney. She went straight for the Disney oeuvre of showtunes, and Broadway was the source of much of her childhood. As she grew older, she showed some real sophisication in music--eschewing the Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, and any and all tweener popsters that her friends had found.

So today, I find that she is making her own playlist of iTunes songs. Admittedly, she is working only from the music already in the library--we've not given her entirely free rein--and it is fascinating to see what she has selected as her favorites.

Showtunes, yes, but also moody music by Dido and Tori Amos, balanced against serious punk by the Offspring and Fountains of Wayne. She has Elvis Presley and Ray Charles cheek by jowl with The Proclaimers (how very retro of her!) Take that, you purple dinosaur!

She is no longer a baby, or even a little kid. At eleven, she is starting to grow toward the person she is going to be as an adult, and yet she still holds on to the things of her past. It is really rare that one gets to know another person as they morph through all the stages of their life--it is a privilege to get to be the parent of such a budding wonder.

Why, yes, I do love my children.