And he will have his revenge
(Close readers of this blog will probably see where this is going.)
For three years in high school I had a regular babysitting job on Friday nights, where I would pick up B., a precocious only son, first at daycare and then at his carefully chosen private alternative (Sudbury-like) school, and bring him back to his house, feed him, play, and put him to bed. Then I would get most of my homework done, helped in part by the fact that theirs was a TV-free household.
His parents (a therapist and a professor) would enjoy dinner and a movie, or whatever, and come home giddy. They all lived in a very nice condo that was stocked with classical and musical theatre records (yes, I’m that old), a piano, and an extensive and interesting library of books, mostly philosophy and psychology and literature.
B. had a complete obsession with Les Miserables, the musical (prior to and during its run in Toronto). And although I was quite a bit in love with this family (in many ways they were my first introduction to what parenting could be like, maybe), I didn’t like that B. loved in particular to scream the worst lyrics out of ‘Master of the House’ at top volume. In this condo, where there were neighbours and all.
So in my teen way I wondered why on earth you would choose to expose your child to that sort of thing, even though I loved Les Miz. (In fact I ended up bringing B. to my school’s concert the year “I” (Lynn) sang a solo there).
All of which is to set up the karmic debt here as I confess that Noah has a new musical love of his own.
There’s a hole in the world like a great black pit
and it’s filled with people who are filled with shit!
And the vermin of the world inhabit it!
(Noah’s version: Dere’s a HOLE GREAT PIT and people SHIT and norld IN IT!)
And now I know the answer: probably they wanted to listen to it now and then, perhaps even on a tape (ancient again, I know) in the car. Like we did a couple of times to Sweeney Todd.
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what a hoot! go noah!
LOL.
Maybe try Into the Woods next?