mortifying since 1999

There are some things a fifty-something mom should never, ever do…according to her fourteen year old son.

:::spoken with literally no rhythm just like a middle aged mom:::

How does a bastard orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot in the Caribbean by providence impoverished, in squalor grow up to be a hero and a scholar?

Really Mom?

The ten-dollar founding father without a father got a lot smarter  by being a self=starter…

Mom! Oh gawd, Mom! No! Stop!

What, son? Hamilton’s my jam.

:::eyeroll…heavy sigh:::

No?

No, Mom. No.

Perhaps he’s right. Still, it’s nice to know that I can still mortify my teenaged child just by being me…as any good parent of a teen does.

While we can not agree if his 54 year old mom is able to spin a verse or two from Hamilton, we both can agree that rap is the language of the Revolution  and the debates that helped to shape our nation…and yes, makes The Federalist Papers something cool that a teenaged student would want to study.

It’s even better on stage at the Richard Rogers Theater. Perhaps I will let Leslie Odom Jr. and the cast of Hamilton tell the story. But right now it is still my jam.

Yes, Daniel rolled his eyes as I said that.

Advertisements