Liv came down for breakfast and I told her her hair looked pretty (because it totally did - it amazes me almost daily that I managed to spawn two children with good hair). She responded by putting two curled fingers on either side of her head and saying, "Foxy". A la Wayne's World. (party time! excellent!) I laughed out loud. She said the humor I found in it was disproportionate to the humor she had intended by her simple gesture. (Okay, she really didn't say that. But it was conveyed. In a glance. You're gonna have to trust me on this one.) I told her that I'd just never expected my child who was born in 1997 to be referencing a movie that was made in 1992 referencing a song from 1967.
But wait, there's more:
We sat down to breakfast. Pancakes. I asked if she was going to have more, as I started to clear the table. She told me to go ahead and clear them. I said, "Well, if you change your mind..." and before I could indicate where I was putting them she chimed in, "I'll be first in line..." laughing and in unison we continued, "baby I'm still free...take a chance on me..." Anyone who knows either of us knows that by this point we were dancing in the kitchen as we cleared up our breakfast dishes, "if you need me, let me know, and I'll be around...if you've got no place to go, if you're feeling down..."
Our kids are destined (doomed) to be the pop-culture geeks that we are. I guess there are worse things they could do. And if - in your head - you felt a compulsion to finish that line with: "than go with a boy, or two" - then I think you know you're okay in my book.