The big J and the dancefloor.

I think the kid is getting brainwashed. The big J(esus) is starting to feature a hell of a lot in her day-to-day thoughts and priorities. Generally 19 month olds don't have too much on their minds, but in the case of ours, she is always pointing out how much J loves her and wondering when we can go to church. This shift in focus seems to have come from nowhere.
This morning I returned from my swim to the big sound of the vacuum cleaner. But over the vacuum I could hear the unmistakable and tinny sound of Christian rock belting from a cheap Nokia, and around the corner ran our little angel with the phone in her hand. The penny dropped. So this is how the house is vacuumed and kid remains occupied when I am out. I tried to talk to her, but we couldn't hear each other speak over the little black box. I removed it from her hand, placed it on the book shelf and immediately scrambled for some hip-hop, it was only 9am but it seemed that we needed to hear about some 'bitches' immediately to counter the vibe. I was being polite, and while we sat there trying to read, hip-hop competed with Christian rock ... and lost. I took the phone into another room and placed it down in such a way as so say "please don't ever give this to my kid again". I hope the message got through.
Maybe I am biased. As I self reflect, I'm sure I wouldn't mind if the message of the big J was being transmitted (albeit behind my back, which is another issue altogether) in the form of awesome gospel. It's probably a genre thing. I cannot stand Christian rock, it sounds like rock (kind of) and then drags you in to thinking it is something else, but really it is all about the big J. There are no illusions with Gospel, and it absolutely rocks (in a non-Christian rock way).

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We went to a charity ball over the weekend. I must admit that it is quite nice to have reached a stage in life where I attend charity balls with my dashing partner. The last time I was in a remotely similar situation, I was 17 and as soon as we arrived my 'date' asked me to conduct a lady-wide survey to find out who (if any) of the girls there thought he was hot. This time around there was no after party with bad drinks and shenanigans in parks, just a lot of awesome dancing with fun people to not-that-exciting hits performed by a very good covers band. Is it just me, or is dancing to Brian Adams akin to saying you have absolutely given up on life and in turn, standards? I can't do Brian and I'm okay with that. There was also some 'entertainment' built into the night and I watched, captivated as 6 young fit things tore up the stage with singing/dancing cabaret stuff. It was all very 'corporate entertainment', especially when the sexy lady picked out the middle aged guys (*cringe*, but all the same eyes remained glued to spectacle) to dance. There may have even been some bump and grid involved. Later the professionals appeared in civilian clothing on the drunk and pumping dancefloor and frankly - their perkiness and ridiculously professional moves had no place there. Anyone in arm's length was at risk of losing an eye. 

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When was the last time you had a massive belly laugh? I ask as when I did recently, I realised it had been a long long time between drinks. I have two recent examples ... one - the Sting impersonation my not-husband launched into seemingly out of nowhere (very good and hilarious) and two - hearing the angel say "tosser" and then burst into laughter. How did she know?? Perhaps it was me. Seems slightly easier to stomach than the big J obsession ... oh the bias of parenting!