I sing the wrong lyrics to songs. And Margaret never lets me forget it. It’s like she’s sitting there waiting for me to mess up the lyrics so she can pounce on my blunder. “Mom, that’s NOT the right words, it’s THIS…” It’s like she’s the lyric police.
So what if I sing the wrong words sometimes? Isn’t it more important that I sing on key? Apparently not.
It doesn’t help that my dear husband is a lyric purist. If they gave out degrees for knowing the right lyrics, he’d have a PhD. He sings the correct words to every song. However, he’s pretty much always off key. Does Margaret pounce on him? Nope. I never hear her utter the words, “Dad, that D sharp was flat!”
Margaret’s becoming a stronger singer, which I love because I am a singer. What’s almost as frustrating as being admonished by a 12-year old that you’re getting the lyrics wrong (which by the way, I already know) is that Margaret will point out when she (incorrectly) believes I am singing off key. I do not profess to be pitch perfect, but I have a pretty good ear and am rarely off key – and when I am, it’s ever so slight. Why does she feel the need to auto-tune me?
Oddly, when I “tuck the girls in,” Margaret balks if I am not in the mood to sing to her. It’s been our thing since she was a baby – I pray over here and sing her a lullaby. When I’m really annoyed at her, I purposely sing off key in her ear. And she doesn’t say anything! It’s like the lyric police union won’t let her cite lyric discrepancies during bedtime.
While she insists that I sing over her, I am keenly aware that this will likely change sooner than later. I’m actually surprised it’s lasted this long. She’s increasingly wanting to become her own person as she gets older So, aware of this inevitable reality, I try to appreciate her request while it lasts. You can read about that here.
Now back to the wrong lyrics. When I was younger, I was much better at remembering lyrics. Or maybe I was just more motivated to remember them. I didn’t have so much inside my head so I could focus more on the words. Margaret doesn’t understand that. At 12, you don’t really have a ton to remember so you remember insignificant things like the lyrics to a song.
I’ve devised a plan though. The next time Margaret points out that I have forgotten the lyrics to a long, I’m going to show her this: