Rochambeau

Lately Jacob is regularly accusing me of being “uncultured.”  It mostly stems from my complete lack of familiarity with globally popular memes, movie lines, and music.

It’s the story of my life and I gave up worrying about it when I was his age.  I did not have MTV.  I’ve always been too sleepy for SNL.  I grew-up on a mountain with five TV channels that I can recite to this day: 2, 8, 11, 35 and 46.  My dad only listened to classical music.  My mom only listened to jazz.  And Lionel Richie.  I am an expert when it comes to Lionel Richie.  This is infinitely useful…

Most of these conversations come up in the car while we’re listening to the radio.  At least the boys appreciate my rendition of the Sexy Baby song.  We really don’t understand this reference to everyone being a sexy baby, but we sing it just the same.  It’s very Whoville.  We are monsters on the hill.  (Side note: It’s a Taylor Swift song… I’ve heard it one meellion times and I’m shocked.  See?  Child of elevator music and smooth jazz.)

Yesterday JoJo finally plays a new song, which is refreshing given the overplayed Sexy Baby and the I Wish I Knew You Wanted Me song.  He tells us it’s sung by SZA.  It sounds like Scissor, but with a thick New York accent.

And I ask, “Did he just say her name is Scizzuh?  Yo.  My name is Scizzuh… and this is my sisduh…” and I don’t have a punchline.

Jacob immediately responds with a perfectly timed, “Paypuh.”

Oh how I want to be this clever.

 

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