I have never been one to sing to my children at bedtime. For a start I can’t sing and the whole exercise would be counter-productive; more Van Halen than Von Trapp. However, if I was going to sing, it wouldn’t be “I’m sexy and I know it and I’m not afraid to show it…”
This was Secundo’s musical contribution to bedtime last night. Except that he has a mild speech impediment so his version came out “I’m shekshy and I know it and I’m not afraid to shhow it…” making him sound like a six year old Sean Connery.
Apparently the children at school are singing this and many other songs from the current musical era. Inevitably he asked me “Mummy, what does shekshy mean? Is it a rude word?”
According to The Internet (does anyone actually use a real dictionary anymore?), sexy is defined as:
Sexually attractive or exciting; Sexually aroused.
Exactly. There was no way I was having that conversation with my son and whilst I frantically scrolled through my mental thesaurus (which appears to have been deleted along with several other parts of my mind) I simply could not find a less controversial (or a less sexy) synonym for sexy.
I want my children to love music and whilst I secretly suspect (and am mildly alarmed) that my older sons (aged 6 and 3) want to dance to the Michael Jackson Wii game because it gives them a more legitimate excuse to clutch their privates in public, I love how music, singing and dancing has opened them up.
Prima recently told her father that her favourite singers were Taylor Swift, Kesha and Katy Perry despite the fact that:
(a) I don’t know who these people are (yes, in 1993 I was culturally cryogenically frozen and will be defrosted when A-Ha makes a global comeback – still being in the charts in Tokyo and Oslo doesn’t really count);
(b) we don’t listen to the radio in the house or in the car because Harvey Norman advertisements give me radio rage;
(c) I make the children listen to Bruce Springsteen, the Indigo Girls and A-Ha’s Greatest Hits; and
(d) Husband makes the children listen to The Rolling Stones and Frank Sinatra.
I am guessing that my poor culturally deprived children binge on today’s pop music the moment they go on a play date. Prima’s latest song fixation is Maroon 5’s Moves like Jagger which she recently asked if she could watch on Youtube. Unable to find a G-rated (or even a PG-rated) clip of the song, I resorted to a version which just showed the lyrics. This was fine until Prima and I read the lyrics and my sweet little 8 year old started singing “Take me by the tongue and I know you’ll kiss me ‘til you’re drunk…” Hmmm.
I don’t mean to make the children Amish (not that there is anything wrong with that, thanks to Harrison Ford, I love the Amish) and I know I won’t do them (the children, not the Amish) any favours by raising them in a vacuum. I also know that when Prima sings “I’ve got the moves like Jagger, I’ve got the mooooves like Jagger” she has no idea about sex or being sexy. Despite Husband’s best efforts, she’s got no idea about Jagger either. She’s just dancing and singing and coming out of her shell that little bit more.
So for now, she’s got the moves like Jagger and after further internet research, we’ve got the Alvin and the Chipmunks version on Youtube.