The music man

There are certain parenting decisions I regret, but I keep making them anyway. Last night, listening to the -- millionth? billionth? -- play of the Crazy Frog CD I had to acknowledge that I had only myself to blame. (If the words Crazy Frog do not strike terror into your heart it is because you are unfamiliar with Crazy Frog and the only downside to being unfamiliar with it is not realizing how lucky you are. I'll say quickly it is the "music" based on cell phone ring tones that originated in Europe -- the novelty of something so crass, commercial, and totally without redeeming value coming out of somewhere other than American would delight me more if I weren't so familiar with the outcome.) Dean, of course, loves Crazy Frog. And that's why I, uh, bought him the CD. I bought it knowing full well what it was. I also bought him the Pokemon Christmas CD (painful), both soundtracks to both Shrek movies (not painful initially but after the zillionth play...), and from iTunes purchased Ghost Riders in the Sky, which he'd heard on the radio and loved. I also bought via iTunes Holiday by Green Day at his request -- a very big mistake given that even though I bought the version without the "explicit" rating, it still contains language that makes me cringe every time I hear it. Dean heard the song while riding in another family's car on a school field trip -- I can ask "what was THAT mother thinking?," but given my own record I have to admit that she probably got herself there in much the same way I did. Dean loves to dance, loves to have music on to parade to, to act out stories to, to surrender himself with abandon to rhythm and catchy words. I remember myself as a child listening to the same music over and over and over again, although it was records with songs about learning the days of the week or the soundtrack to the Sound of Music, so my family only had to feel tortured but not have their political and personal sensibilities threatened.