We awoke at 5 a.m. yesterday morning, loaded the van, and drove away by 6. a.m. I’d picked up several new tapes to listen to, some from a library book sale. We put in a tape that purported to be a collection of turn of the century popular music- that century being 1899-1902.
For some reason, somebody thought that songs like ‘The Banks of the Wabash’ would sound better in an operatic rendition. Pipsqueak was objecting by the third note.
The Headgirl said politicly, “We don’t really expected to hear folk and 19th century tunes sung as opera.”
“No,” came the First Year Boy’s clear tones from the back of the van. “It’s inappwopwiate.”
Defeated, the DHM selected another tape.
As she switched tapes, Equuschick announced her satisfaction with the decision, “Ejected and rejected,” she said.
The DHM suggested Bernsteins’ They Come to America.
“No,” said the Head Girl, “Too brash for 6 a.m.”
Pipsqueak said that’s just what she wanted.
“Well, I don’t mind” said the Head Girl agreeably, “I have my headphones and personal C.D. player. “
“Nnoooooo,” wailed the DHM, “I don’t like individual, private headphones. They are isolating and interfere with developing common bonds between family members.”
“I know you don’t like individual headphones,” said the HG.
“Communist,” said Equuschick.