Sing a song

I can’t sing. Well, I can sing, but you don’t want to hear it. When I was in high school, for our senior class play, I had the role of someone who was supposed to sing off key. That aspect was removed from the play. I apparently even sing off key wrong. That is how bad I am.
So I pretty much don’t sing, unless I am by myself in the car and there is a chance for me to make a fool of myself at the stop light. Generally, it will be one of those moments where I think I’m all alone, and SURELY no one will actually see me singing along to the Huey Lewis/Gwyneth Paltrow remake of “Cruisin” when just as I horribly croon “ I love it when we’re cruisin’ together” I look over and see that the car next to me is filled with ex-girlfriends, high school crushes, former coaches, etc. And before you criticize me for that particular song, I guarantee each and every one of you has your guilty pleasure song. Sure, you may be super cool and hip and keep the latest cool bands in your CD case, but you just know as soon as, say, The Monkees “Daydream Believer” comes on, you suddenly turn into the Karaoke Kid, so don’t you judge me.
I even avoid singing in church. I used to do this low, humming lip sync that my wife informed me was even more annoying than bad singing. I’ve heard before that there is no such thing as bad singing in church. I beg to differ, as does anyone who has ever sat near me.
But my inability to sing well makes it all the more strange that my daughter is a nonstop singer. Loves it. It sounds great to me, but of course, with parents, everything their children do is adorable and perfect:
PROUD PARENT: Awwww!!! Look what little Suzie did!!!
EVERYONE: Ewwww.
But there she goes, singing along. She wakes up in the morning, and we hear her singing. She goes to have breakfast, she sings. She gets dressed ... well, you get the trend. It is all singing, all the time for her.
She also uses singing as a bit of a calming mechanism. The more stressed or scared she gets, the louder the singing gets. For example, we took her little brother to the doctor for shots. He was not pleased with this, and decided to engage the nurse in hand-to-hand combat. Allie’s response? Sing a VERY loud song that she made up on the spot. She just stared ahead, belting out some song about a princess. I can imagine her getting pulled over for speeding in 20 years.
COP: License and registration, ma’am.
ALLIE: POLLY WOLLY DOODLE ALL THE DAY!!!
COP: Pardon?
ALLIE: MY GAL SAL, SHE’S A SPUNKY GAL!!!
COP: OK, step out of the car.
My wife and I pretty much just let her go wild with the singing. It’s obviously something that she really loves, and with things like that, if it makes them happy, let them go. True, that cannot be an overriding philosophy for children. There are a lot of things that would make my children happy that they are not going to get. I am sure they would love cookies for dinner and a 10 p.m. bedtime, but that ain’t happening. At least not unless their mother goes out of town.
Allie doesn’t care where she is when she’s singing, but we do try and temper it somewhat when we’re out in public. And it’s a delicate balancing act to explain to her that the song she is singing is very nice, but that maybe not EVERYONE at the restaurant wants to hear “Over the Rainbow.” Of course, she will then look at us with this confused look. “Why would you NOT want to hear ‘Over the Rainbow’?” At that point, I excuse myself to the restroom and let my wife handle it.
Hopefully, she will continue to enjoy singing. It seems to relax her, and she certainly gets into it. Not very often you find things in life that bring that double dose to you. I have decided that my role in song is to be a fan of my daughter’s. I don’t think there will be any duets with Dad in her future. I guess I’m just no Huey Lewis. But really, who is?