Wednesday, January 19

Deadhead in the Making

Glazed eyes glued to the stage. Crowd screaming in ecstasy. Munchies hitting wide. The oddly arrhythmic sway of the dancing. The out-of-hand mosh pit, with bumps, grinds, and waving arms. A few true fans holding up a banner, shrieking wildly when it was noticed.

Okay, so the banner read "SteveSongs Rule!," the munchies were being fulfilled with Goldfish, and no one in the mosh pit was taller than three and a half feet, but, man, I can see these kids in fifteen years, lighters in hand, following Phish around the country.

We took Doodles to his very first concert. Granted it was a fundraiser for a preschool, but let me tell you, these kids know how to rock. When Steve sang the mice song, those kids were chanting along "Cheddar or Swiss! Provolone is bliss!"

To his credit, Steve actually can sing and the music was enjoyable for grown-ups, too. My little munchkin was entranced, sitting patiently in my lap for the first forty-five minutes of the concert and then he had a field day the last half hour running back and forth across the back of the auditorium as Adam chased him.

This year SteveSongs. Next year... oh God, next year it's going to be Brittney Spears, isn't it? We are so screwed.

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