I interviewed a little boy the other day who said he wants to be a rock star drummer when he grows up.
But if that falls through, he said, he'll settle for a veterinarian.
Rye has not yet announced what he wants to be when he grows up. And given his mother's complete lack of musical ability, I wouldn't guess rock star drummer -- or singer or guitarist or anything -- is in the cards for him.
Still, he has recently begun singing along to one song in particular.
He calls it "the Rye song" and he often requests to hear it in my car. Really, it's "Mr. Brightsides" by The Killers.
But it's been nicknamed "the Rye song" because long ago Dane made a movie of video clips of Rye's first 18 months of life set to, you guessed it, "Mr. Brightsides." (Note: I would love to post that video here, but Blogger long ago stopped letting me load videos. Hmph.).
So yesterday I took Rye to daycare and he requested the song.
It started, and he immediately started bobbing his head and singing along.
You can imagine how cute that was.
But, if you know the song, you would also imagine that there's no way he knows all those words, which are sung rather fast.
You would be right. He does not know all the words, but as kids do, he sang them anyway, so that no actual words were coming out of his mouth but rather mumbles and partial words and whatever else he thinks The Killers are saying in that song.
It was pretty great. But I did not laugh out loud. Rather, I listened secretly, smiling to myself as I drove.
When the song was over, he quickly asked me to "Turn the music off please, Mommy." I did, and then he said, "Did you hear me singing?"
"I did, Rye," I said. "I liked it."
And he smiled, content with himself and, I suppose, pondering a possible future career.
(Side note: Rye has two new posts on his blog. They are good. Check them out here.)