The boy surprised me as we drove to Detroit’s airport, the night before we left on vacation by insisting we listen to music from his Spotify account. Ordinarily this means listening to classic rock, The Doors, The Doobie Brothers, Bill Withers, or the YouTube sensations Tupperware Party Remix or Ninja Sex Party. However, this time he insisted I just sit back and be surprised by the music…and I was.
Rap music? UGH! I thought to myself. When did my son start liking rap?
But then the strands of chords started to make sense and I began to recognize we were listening to a musical we watched win several Tony awards a month or so earlier. “Alexander Hamilton, my name is Alexander Hamilton…” played through my car speakers. I glanced over at my son who smiled and said, “I know this isn’t what you usually listen to, Mom, but give it a chance…”
Now I admit, while I don’t live completely under a rock, I can be obtuse at times. In the last year, I’ve read many reviews of Hamilton, watched interviews and seen clips on YouTube. But I never invested more than a few moments, a passing glance, a quick read into why the show was so popular. So when the music played over our car speakers, the passengers inside the car became engaged, bobbing our heads, swaying to the beat and before I knew it, we were hooked. But then we had to catch our flight and the musical was cut off mid stream. The doll, sensing this was something bigger than a civic’s lesson, immediately signed up for a free music trial smembership and downloaded the musical to her device. Not wanting to be left out, I did the same.
During one of our hikes up a mountain side with earbuds playing music in her ears my doll said aloud (in a derogatory tone) to herself, “Good move Hamilton, having an affair…” “What? Are you listening to the soundtrack now?” “You don’t think I was going to hike without music do you?” She replied and continued onward. While I did not listen to music while I hiked, I did harbor a bit of envy toward her for listening to Hamilton–without me.
“Have you finished the musical yet? The boy asked me midweek. “Just about…” I replied and he smiled. “Just so you’re aware, I cried during the last song,” he said. “Smiling at my sentimental boy I said, “Good to know–thanks for the heads up”.
Since then, my son has asked me to stop playing Hamilton aloud via my Bluetooth speaker. “Mom, you’re ruining the musical for me…” He told me yesterday. “Bay you should be happy! You gave your mom something new to enjoy,” I tried. “I am, but that doesn’t mean I wanted you to kill that music for me…” “Sucks to be you sometimes then, huh…” I replied while turning the music back on; essentially driving him from the room.
Part civic lesson, part boy expell-er. Can’t get much better than that!