As we were walking across the parking lot to the theater the other day (with other theater patrons fore and aft) Johnny broke into song. Not an unusual occurrence; this time it was “Moves Like Jagger” by Maroon 5.
Now, I have some doubts and a good dose of parental guilt about letting my children listen to this song in the first place. So, to assuage said guilt and make me look a little less like Ms. Trailer Park 2011, he could’ve gone for the innocuous second verse: “Maybe it’s hard when you feel like you’re broken and scarred – nothing feels right. But when you’re with me I’ll make you believe that I’ve got the key.”
But did he?
Instead dear John busted out with the chorus, that old standard lullaby that every 8-year-old knows:
“Take me by the tongue and I”ll know you.* Kiss me till you’re drunk and I’ll show you all the moves like Jagger, I’ve got the moves like Jagger….”
*(I’m pretty sure Adam means this in the Biblical sense.)
So either my family is ultra-liberal and wildly, painfully hip, or I should be wearing ass-revealing denim cutoffs, no bra under my Harley Davidson tank top and no shoes, chain-smoking while a baby (clad only in a diaper) crawls around on the ground playing with empty beer cans.
All part of our mystique, I guess.