He called me this morning. He was driving to work. I was driving to work. He asked me if I was listening to the radio. I have two kids in the car. The radio might be on, but I’m fairly certain I’m not listening to it. I’m hosting a theological discussion, the substance of which is tangential to this story, so I’ll save it for the next post.
The radio has been advertising for the Friday show. Every Friday they invite a studio audience of only about a dozen or so people in to watch the show broadcast. They play games with the audience and the audience members take home a bunch of swag and can compete for prizes. He called in, and actually got through, and wants to know if anything on my schedule would interfere with me doing tomorrow morning’s routine by myself, and do I mind, because he wants to go.
Did you know his daughters have him wrapped around their respective pinkies? Do you know why he’s so excited to go to this particular Free-for-All Friday? Because in this week’s swag bag, there is a free pair of good-seats tickets to go see The Wiggles when they come to town in August. And he had the insane filled-with-love idea that scoring free tickets so he could take his elder princess on an adventure is worth waking up at 4:00 in the morning. Prince Charming, no?
So what exactly is the exciting thing that’s going to happen? Let’s break it down, you know, 1989 old skool:
Come on, come on and party hardy all night, and
Wiggle it just a little bit, I wanna see you wiggle it just a little bit
And now you're partyin' like you've never partied before
You're jumpin' up and down like crazy on the dance floor
Dancin' by yourself is bad for your health
So grab a (two-year-old) cutie by the hand and tell her that you wanna dance
Wiggle it just a little bit, I wanna see you wiggle it just a little bit, as it grooves
My eternal gratitude for the lyrics and genius of 2 in a Room. Oh, and the generous spirit of my crazy co-parent. And the prospect of a quiet night in the house, even if it’s two months away.