Country music and Irish tunes.
When it comes to defining my musical tastes, that pretty much sums it up. I listen to one radio station, 98.1 FM out of Providence, that plays country music. I have one CD in my car, Great Big Sea, which is a Newfoundland Celtic band. And on the rare occasions I do break out my iPod, it’s full of both country and Irish. Needless to say Will is bombarded with my music and has taken to it like a duck to water.
But lately I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.
Preschool: “Hi Mr. Gouveia, I was wondering if I could have a word with you about William.”
Me: “Of course. Is everything OK?”
Preschool: “Well, William’s been acting a little strange lately. Saying some very odd things. I don’t mean to pry, but is everything OK with your marriage?”
Me: “Excuse me? My marriage?? Why would you ask me that?”
Preschool: “William keeps saying something about a ‘scolding wife’ and saying ‘I swear to God I’ll hang myself if I get married again.'”
Me: “Oh, well that’s a simple misunderstanding. You see—”
Preschool: “And it seems to me either you or your wife has a drinking problem that is taking its toll on William.”
Me: “Neither one of us has a drinking problem. Why would you say that?”
Preschool: “When we ask him what he wants to drink during snack time, he either asks for ‘whiskey in a jar‘ or something called the ‘old black rum.’ I assume you know it’s highly unusual and inappropriate for a 3-year-old to mention such things.”
Me: “Yes but it’s not as bad as you think—”
Preschool: “Not as bad as we think? Mr. Gouveia, your son is talking about about a zombie named Tim Finnegan rising from the dead after mourners at his wake used his body to cool down their alcoholic beverages.”
Me: “It’s just a song called Tim Finnegan’s Wake, it’s really harmless.”
Preschool: “Harmless huh? Is it harmless that Will asked if one little girl was a mermaid, and then said he desired some ‘tail?'”
Me: “To be fair, that’s just kinda funny.”
Preschool: “No Mr. Gouveia it is not funny. Hearing a toddler talking about Drunken Sailors, pulling dead horses named Charlie out of ponds, the night Patty Murphy died and how he used to work in Chicago does not constitute good parenting.”
Me: “Hey, it’s better than rap.”