Sweet Child O' Mine

When this fave o' mine came on in the car today, both kids simultaneously asked me to change the station -- complaining that they didn't like the screaming. Really? Is it possible not to like Axl's screaming?

I'll tell you who's screaming I don't like -- mine. But this morning, the combination of a mom who hasn't been as focused on her serenity and a sweet child o'mine -- a 10-year old boy with long hair that he sometimes refuses to comb -- made for a not-so-pretty scene in the bathroom before school.

Walking to school with my daughter, I told her that I didn't like it when I scream (she said she doesn't either) and that I'd grown up with a screaming mother and really don't want that for my kids. "Well," she reassured me, "Daddy doesn't really scream, but he does say the F-word." Yep, we all have parenting moments of which we're not proud. It's part of the deal.

Tonight, long after he should have been asleep, my son came downstairs while I was working on this post and the song was playing in the background. Funny how much more curious he was about the song and its singer when it meant putting off bedtime. I didn't mind too much, though -- after the way our day together started out, I can't really think of a more satisfying ending than having a moment where I could bury my face in his shoulder-length locks while singing:

Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place

Where as a child I'd hide

And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by

Whoa, oh, oh, sweet child o' mine

Whoa, oh, oh, oh, sweet love of mine...