Mama Was a Hippie and Papa Was a Rolling Stone

Okay, so Papa wasn't a rolling stone (he wasn't even a Papa; he was a Peter), but Mama definitely was a hippie, or at least a hippie-wanna-be (hard to be a hippie with two kids, a mortgage, and a Mercury Cougar). She did her best to instill all those good old fashioned liberal ideas, using that good old fashioned tool of the liberals--song--into me and the Tweedle Twirp. It began with Peter, Paul, and Mary. It continued when we went to camp, where we sang songs such as "If I Had a Hammer." And what liberal childhood is complete without Free To Be ... You And Me?

So now, I fight the evilness that lurks in our house (aka Adam's politics) using the powers my mother passed on to me. Adam, as he was influenced by his hippie-bashing father, doesn't understand the potency of song (when I called Tweedles tonight to confer with her on the words of "If I Had a Hammer," Adam said at one point, "She's singing to you, isn't she?" which is something he finds alien. As he said, "You know, I grew up in a household where not every statement inspired someone to break out into song." Welcome to the Brown Family. I'm sure, right now this second, that sentence led my mother to think of some song that she's now singing).

So, every morning, in my subversive suburban way, I play "Free to Be... You and Me" for Doodles. I skip over the spoken word parts--don't get me wrong; these are still some of my favorite parts (how can you not love, "Hi, I'm a baby." "What do you think I am, a loaf of bread?" "You could be, what do I know? I was just born five minutes ago!" but at ten months, Doodles doesn't appreciate my spoken word, never mind a CD's spoken word). He rolls around on the diaper changing table to "Every girl in this land, grows to be her own woman." He pulls himself up on his toy to "When I grow up, will I be pretty? Will you be big and tall?" He yanks all the books off the shelf to "Some mommies are ranchers or poetry makers." He wails and we call it a morning at "A doll said, William, is what I need, to wash and clean, and dress and feed." (I consider this proof for the "he's straight" side; other proof: he pulls off bibs and hats; the kid despises accessories. Evidence on the "he's gay" side: he flirts more with boys than girls. Either's okay with me; I just hate not being in the know.)

Adam doesn't understand the power of the music. Oh, but he'll learn. In five years, Adam's not going to know what hit him when Doodles demands universal health care and day care and a complete overhaul of the welfare system. And I'll credit it all to Marlo Thomas.