Wassailing

Here we come a-wassailing
Among the leaves so green,
Here we come a-wand’ring
So fair to be seen.
Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail, too,
And God bless you, and send you
A Happy New Year,
And God send you a Happy New Year.

Nothing screams Christmas quite like listening to Christmas carols.  Of course, there are newer traditions…like the annual hunt for Christmas songs in your iTunes library.  Was it Steve’s idea to list them under the “Holiday” genre?  (hold on a bit, sending another email to Apple about things they can change now that Steve is dead).

Anyway, this annual ritual now consists of the part where I look at a song title I haven’t seen in a year and ask myself, “What the heck is that doing in my music library?”  Case in point, Brittney Spear’s, “My Only Wish this Year.”  See, it just happened to you to, yes?  You just asked, “What the heck is THAT doing in Brian’s music (if you can call it that) library?”  As God as my witness, I have no idea how it got there.  And every Christmas I have this initial gut reaction to highlight and delete.  and every year, I pause, hit highlight, then hit play…and proceed to laugh…you know with a belly laugh that shakes like a bowl full of jelly.  It has been some years now, but when Sachan was younger, she heard this song one year and was immediately horrified…not at the weakness of Britney’s singing voice or her difficulty to stay completely clad or her ability to make wise decisions…no, no, no.  She was horrified that apparently, Santa, for reasons unknown to her, had taken Britney’s baby from her.  I trust you have good musical taste and have never heard this song so let me clue you in here with the key phrase:  Santa can you hear me? I want my baby, baby.”  It becomes more confusing when she adds, “I want my baby back this year.”  This of course led Sachan to ask why Santa had taken the baby (you are with me, yes?  The little itty bitty baby) from her in the first place?  After all, she thought Santa was nice and brought you things…there was never any mention that he might take things too.  So Britney stays on the list and I chuckle.

This year, for the Winter Concert at her school, the elementary school choir sang Winter Wonderland, which led to questions like, What is a Parson?  What is conspire? and Why didn’t they just say “plan?”  (gosh darn those rhymes)  And what is perspire?  Am I the only one who suspects it might be the lubricant to help Santa get up and down those chimneys?  The unexpected question was how old are the people singing the song?  If they are conspiring they must be young, yes?  But if they are frolicking…yes, I enjoyed defining that word too…well, they must be older, yes?

I should have turned the music off after Winter Wonderland, but oh no, I was the in the Christmas spirit by that point.  That’s when the iTunes shuffle randomizer took an evil turn…(yes, I blame Steve)…and played, in a row, three versions of Baby, It’s Cold Outside.  Why do we have multiple versions of this song?  NO IDEA!  The final, and I have to say, my favorite, is Lady Antebellum’s version.  Sachan chimes in, and I know right away I am not going to like where this is going…

Sachan:  So, this song about a woman.

Me: (sighing at the inevitable nature of this discussion…I mean we just finished the “frolic” conversation, and in a dejected dad voice) yes.

Sachan:  and she is at a man’s house.

Me:  (This is where I embrace my manly and fatherly duties and yell for Pam.  Hey, it’s my right.  And besides, I let her know with our secret parental code what’s coming:  YOUR daughter has a question for YOU…wink, wink, nod, nod.  But Pam wasn’t home…so still in the dejected dad voice, I replied) yes.

Sachan:  But they aren’t married.

Me:  (oh please make this end soon!)  no.

Sachan:  And she is trying to leave.

Me: yes

Sachan:  And he is trying to stop her.

Me:  Well, technically, trying to convince her not to go.  (Hey I realize it semantics, but come on, half of the folks reading this appreciate the technical clarification.)

Sachan:  And its cold outside.

Me:  Yes  (excellent, we are back to the just the facts, steering away from the danger zone, And…oh, crap…

Sachan:  Because he wants her to stay.

Me: (really sad, really dejected father voice now) yes

Sachan:  But that wouldn’t work, would it?

Me: (oh, my cue, advisory dad mode… I go this, I got this)  Well, the way she is singing this, I think she sounds pretty smart.  Don’t you?

Sachan:  (You see what I did there don’t you?  That’s right, I am asking the questions now!) Yea, I guess.

Me:  And if she were smart then she would know when it was time to go home, yes?

Sachan: yes.

Me:  (Here it comes, the big finale!)  And what is it your dear old dad has always told you about boys?

Sachan:  All boys are bad; except for my dad.

Me:  (So proud!  So very, very proud.)  How as about we listen to some Blues (you know, the kind without dangerous lyrics.)