The Dork Gene

I did not pass down the dork gene to Froggy. I know this because she is already way cooler than I ever was.

The other night during treatment I turned the channel to our local PBS station, needing a break from our kids videos. The Lawrence Welk show was on. I watched this program with my grandparents as a kid and LOVED the big hair, blue eyeshadow and cheesy songs where everyone harmonizes perfectly, and the set is lit with a fuzzy, lavender hue, like you're watching someone's dream, or a Shakespearean play set in a forest where lovers woo. Okay, so I liked Lawrence Welk. And I still do.

Froggy, however, did not inherit this gene and went on a desperate quest for the remote control. I swear, I swear, she was trying to change the channel. And when I finally submitted and switched it to Sesame Street, she looked at me like, "What were you thinking, mom. I mean, really?"

Froggy already has eclectic taste in music and prefers a much cooler genre. I love Folk music and usually play it during dinner. About a week ago, Miss Crabbypants was protesting Joni Mitchell, so I put in a mixed CD of FroggyDaddy's. It consisted of The Clash, Adam and the Ants, and The Beastie Boys. She LOVED it, and once again looked at me like, "Can Daddy pick the music from now on?"

I also love Froggydaddy's taste in music, but I hope Froggy embraces the geek in herself someday. Perhaps, after much brainwashing, she will grab the remote, and choose "HEE-HAW" over "The LA Philharmonic" or "The Brady Bunch Variety Show" over "Charlie Rose". We'll see. Until then, we'll rock out to "The Casbah" and jungle beats, and every once in a while, I'll throw in a Blossom Dearie, or Bessie Smith. And she'll just have to deal.