My mom is a mom.
Along with the inspiring stuff, comes the endlessly embarrassing stuff.
My mom listened (cough. cough. listens. cough.) to disco. She used to try to clean the bathroom in its entirety during the full dance version of "MacArthur Park." I believe it was 16 minutes long--but I'm too scarred by embarrassment to look it up and risk reopening those wounds.
I found her choice in music utterly humiliating.
For the most part, I still do (no offense, mom, but MacArthur park still totally blows).
However, now that I get to spend a large chunk of time with teenage girls at church, I realize that my taste in music is starting to make me the old fogey. While I do like some new music, I don't like most of this crap they call music today, and I'm only getting worse. It's humbling, but painfully true.
So mom, now I can say I am joining your club as a musical loser. Or in your generation's lingo, "a square."
Do we get T-shirts?
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