Monday, June 26, 2006

My son, the critic.

Generally speaking, Brody likes it when I play guitar. I'll play something, and if he doesn't recognizes it immediately, he asks, "What song is it?" He's actually better than most people at figuring out the songs.

I was noodling around, not playing anything in particular, and he asked what song I was playing. I told him, "It's called 'Brody's Song.'" So I kept playing it, improvising a melody. This, he liked.

When I played it for Jen later, he was still enthusiastic about it. Then I played an Elliott Smith song, "Son of Sam." Brody loves him some Elliott Smith.

I got about halfway through, and Brody looked at me.

"Stop, Daddy, stop, stop, stop! That's terrible!"

So, after waiting for my wife's copious laughter to stop, I switched to "Older" by They Might Be Giants (Brody also loves him some TMBG), and I guess that's what he wanted to hear, because he started squealing with joy again.

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