My parents visited from southern Indiana this past week. It’s always interesting having the folks in town. We end up watching a lot of movies, eating things that don’t normally grace our table, and driving around a lot. This time things were much more relaxed. We did watch a few movies, including Juno (very funny and charmingly sweet) and No Country for Old Men (about the fifth time for me, and it hasn’t gotten old yet). We also spent an evening watching my son’s middle school theater department stage the musical Hee Haw Hayride. He played Dwight Culver, a driven publishing executive with a sharp tongue and a penchant for antacid tablets and napkins. He made us all very proud indeed.
But the highlight of their entire visit involved a cheesy set of drums, off-key vocals, and a couple of wireless faux Fender Stratocasters. Yes, we dug out Rock Band and started our own Motley Crew. I played bass, as usual. My kids rotated through the rest of the instruments, and mom and dad took mic in hand and sang along to songs they’ve never heard before. What a hoot! There’s nothing quite like the revenge one can take upon their parents by making them sing songs they would have scorned during my youth.
Rock Band: $170.
Batteries for wireless controllers: $12.00
Munchies for between songs: $20.00.
Hearing dad sing “Enter Sandman”: Priceless!
I tell you, nothing beats the joy of hearing your dad haltingly belt out the Beastie Boys:
‘Cause What You See You Might Not Get
And We Can Bet So Don’t You Get Souped Yet
You’re Scheming On A Thing That’s A Mirage
I’m Trying To Tell You Now It’s Sabotage!
And the cool part is that he aced it! 100%!! We snorted out our soda we laughed so hard!
The Cruë ain’t got nothing on our Crew . . .