Twinkle, Twinkle little girl

Things they don’t warn you about when you become a parent, No. 863: Under the right circumstances, “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” could make you weepy.

Sophie and her fourth-grade classmates at Tioga Hills Elementary School gave their very first concert tonight. And the first time I heard their bows hit the strings, I really did tear up. It’s so great to see your kid take on a new challenge. We’re so proud of our girl!

Here’s a less than two-minute recap of their performance:

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Kids and pop music

I used to think that the first issues I would have related to parenthood and pop music were going to arise in 2020 or so, sometime after Sophie became a teenager.

Not that my parents ever seemed to worry about the music that my brother and I were into as kids. They let me go see INXS with friends in Philadelphia at 16. Soon after, my father introduced me to The Damned and their fantastic album “Phantasmagoria.” My mom has told me that one of her biggest parenting regrets is not letting my brother go see the Grateful Dead in concert when he was in high school. (Yeah, my parents are that cool.)

Charlotte already wants to be a rock star.

Anyway, fast-forward a bit and I assumed there would eventually be a problem. One of our sweet girls would grow up to be a fan of death metal (or, worse, twangy country music) and we’d have to start shouting through her bedroom door for her to turn it down. You get the idea.

The reality is that it’s our music that’s the problem. And it’s a problem already! We can’t listen to the new Cee Lo Green song “Fuck You” in front of the kids. We know from past experience (with Lady Gaga and Weezer, among others) that they’ll know the lyrics by heart after hearing it just a few times.

So what’s a responsible parent to do? I cannot go back to The Wiggles. Honestly, I don’t really even want to go back to listening to the Barenaked Ladies’ “Snacktime” and that relatively harmless batch of cool-but-still-intended-for-kids music now that we’ve all moved on to regular pop hits. But I also hate to hear my 6-year-old singing Katy Perry’s “California Gurls.” Good grief!