If Only He Had a Pair of Stolen Nikes....

How I wish I were quick enough (and technologically savvy enough) to grab my new phone that takes really good pictures and capture Jack in the car yesterday. But, aside from the fact that I was driving, I didn't think quickly and the moment was gone.

First, let me share with you one of his most annoying habits: changing the radio station no more than a minute and a half through any given song. If I didn't already have ADD, this would give it to me.

So as we're driving home from wherever, he's switching back and forth between five or six stations that - mind you - are all playing the same songs, and the volume is up way louder than I would have it, if I were to be in control of Car Music. Which I'm not, because I try to be a nice mom, and I try to choose my battles carefully these days. Car Music is not on my list of Really Important Things I Need to Control. And, when it's a song I like, I crank the volume, so really, who am I to complain?

He's "singing" along - in quotes, because Jack only knows about five words to any song. I believe this is why he changes the station...his lyric bank is a little low and he doesn't want anyone to catch on.

Anyway, out of the corner of my eye, I see his head bopping like he's a Hilltop gangsta, and I turn to see if he's doing that fake driving thing, you know, with one hand on the imaginary wheel...? Like this:


Evidently, that's what you do when you listen to music these days. I think it's the new air guitar.

But he's not gangsta driving, because his left hand is covering his ear and I think there's something wrong because his head is bowed low, almost into his lap, and his right hand is flailing around near the window like he's having a seizure. I turn fully, to make sure he's ok, and that's when I wish I had the camera phone ready.

He's fine, I see. He appears to be completely engaged in mixing some kind of sick tunes on his imaginary turntable set-up, with his left hand covering the pretend earphone (better sound definition) and his right hand squeaking the invisible record back and forth to make that eee-eee-eee sound of a perfectly good vinyl LP being ruined.

Sort of like this:




Only, not.