Cade and I exchange smirks.
"And I know I'm riiiiiiight, for the first time in my life," Jai croons.
"It's funny hearing him sing about his life," hubby commented once after yet another rendition. "He's all of three."
I must say, they have good taste. Admittedly, all the music is mine and the Jump Around one's a bit embarrassing, especially when Master Five insists on rolling down the window at the lights and turning up the volume.
Apparently, he did this to his father, much to his horror.
"We were going through Cameron St mall and someone opened their window and turned up the music really loud," he reported when they came home.
Why is he telling me this? I wondered. Teenagers do that all the time.
Then I realised he was talking about our son.
Cade knows all the numbers off by heart so I have my own personal DJ on tap. The trouble is, I'm getting a tad sick of my own music.
One of my New Year's resolutions is to get with the times and buy an iPod because the children have handled and thrashed the CDs so much all of them now skip.
"Sorry, we can't play Jump Around anymore," I told Cade with some relief. "You guys played it too much and now it's broken. You'll have to come up with another favourite."
"Mum, play the Yes song!," shouted Jai from the back seat.
Cade and I went through our list of favourites until I got it.
"Jets! Bennie and the Jets, Jai?"
Elton John's keyboard began belting out the opening bars. Away they all sang, not having a clue what any of the words were, bar the chorus.
"Bennie and the Jetssssssssssssssss," they harmonised all the way home.
I'm really going to have to get that iPod because Benny and the Jets is now fast approaching the same fate as its peers.
