Sunday, December 5, 2010

Bad Ass

My youngest son has recorded a CD recently, and he is now selling them to raise money for charity. He is part of Children's Voices for Charity, a group of local children who have practiced like crazy and recorded a CD with holiday music from around the world.

After the group's last performance at the local tree lighting, we were invited to a party at a home nearby. The grandfather of one of the singers generously offered to host our group of children and parents in his fabulous home. Initially I was stunned that he had actually invited children into what was decidedly not a child-friendly decorating scheme, with antiques, china and silver and first edition books filling every surface, both vertical and horizontal. First, he plied the adults with dangerous Manhattans and the children with bowls of M&Ms right at waist level. After valiantly trying to escape from, or at least doctor up, the sinister Manhattans in our hands (I am certain they will find several half-full cups wedged in the bookcase), we mingled and had an all around good time. In his affable and friendly manner, with a festive apron tied in a bow at his back, our host served big trays of homemade mac and cheese, and juicy sliders. The children ran around, delirious on candy and salami (maybe that was just my son). After dinner he showed my older son his college yearbook (Georgetown) of which he was the editor. Then he pointed out who the class president was, a guy named Bill Clinton.

As the evening came to an end, we sought out our host to say thank you. He leaned down to my youngest, and asked him what grade he was in. My son replied, "Fifth grade!" like it is the best grade in the entire world. "Ah yes," our host replied. "The age when you believe you know everything!" My son regarded him with a level gaze, paused, and said, "You mean like a smart ass?" A surprised and pleased expression spread across our host's face. "Yes, that's what I mean." To which my son replied, "Well, it's better to be a smart ass than a dumb ass!" With a glance to make sure the host was finding this humorous (he was), I grabbed my Brooks Brothers suit-wearing ten year old, said thanks, and made a hasty exit.

I don't know, maybe I should be mad at my son for being a smart ass, or for swearing. But it was funny. And he knew it. I just couldn't be mad. Perhaps the Manhattan clouded my judgement.

Please buy a CD (min $10 donation, all goes to charity)! In addition to being a smart ass, he can sing pretty well. Leave a comment below and I will contact you.

By the way, what the heck is in a Manhattan anyway?

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