I've really done it now. I have failed as a mother. I have exposed my sweet children to....Abba. OH NO! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I came downstairs and saw and heard Sweet Marissa listening to Abba on iTunes. She has the whole outfit nailed though, doesn't she? Maren cannot help but dance to it. Abba compels her to move. She cannot not dance. Oh well, I am sure I have exposed them to worse things along the way.
I really do love music - and yes that includes Abba. (Some - like the Captain- may argue that Abba is not truly music.) Growing up, my mom always had music going around our house via a good old eight track player. Remember when we used to think those were so much cooler than records? The Captain and I get a kick out of reminiscing about what he used to listen to growing up (definitely a little more rock and roll) compared to the easy listening station at the Vaas household. We had Kenny Rogers (my mother's hero - I still choke back a bit of vomit when I hear "Islands in the Stream") Air Supply, Donnie and Marie Osmond (more vomit), Guy and Ralna (of Lawrence Welk fame) with a touch of redeeming Elvis and the Beatles.
I love the way music can transport you to that time and place where you first fell in love with a song. Sort of like what happens to the nasty food critic in Ratatouille- just one taste and time drops him off and shoves him out the door into his mother's kitchen where he first fell for his mother's ratatouille. Maybe not so much the ratatouille, but everything that went along with it. Likewise with a song - you just have to go along for the ride. I listen to the Mavericks and I am two-stepping with the Captain when we first started dating. I hear a certain Eagles song and find myself lying (unrestrained - and I am worried about Abba exposure?) in the rear window of the family car, warm sun on my back, driving west through the endless state of South Dakota in search of the All-American vacation to Mt. Rushmore. Abba? Well, I am strapping a pair of metal roller skates to my tennies with my brother Don, making laps around our basement - first around the pool table, figure-eight around the ping pong table, all the while, getting our boogie on. All good memories.
I do hope the girls have some fond memories of music growing up, but like my good friend Dawn says, a little Abba - goes a long way - about 30 years or so for me.