Lately, my oldest son has been interested in discovering new music. Even though he loves the CDs and iPod, he’d rather we listen to the radio. Fortunately, there are enough decent radio stations that we can flip between them to avoid both commercials and songs that would require me to explain their lyrics.
The other day as we were driving to rock-climbing, the radio played a song he’d never heard before.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I think it’s by Michael Buble, though. It sounds like him.”
There was a pause, and I glanced over to see him grinning from ear to ear, his face turning red with his effort to keep from laughing.
“What?” I said. “That’s who I think it is! Michael Buble.”
All the laughter he’d been holding in exploded out. “Boob-lay?” he said, at last. “Really, Daddy? BOOB-lay?”
I couldn’t stop myself from chuckling. “That’s his name.”
“Hi, I’m Mr. Boob-lay!”
“Okay, okay.” I said. “I get it.”
“Oh man,” he said. “I think he’s my new favorite singer.”