Finding the funny in parenthood before somebody loses an eye...



Tuesday, December 14, 2010

"Fricka-Fricka...Word."

My 7 year old son is into rap.

I know it's my fault.  We listen to rap and R&B in the car on the way to school, on the way home, on the way to activities.    And now he turns everything into a rap by adding "Fricka-Fricka...word" to the end of it.  

I don't know where he came up with this idea, but I think it's his way "layin' it down."  And, he loves saying it.  So now he "raps" about everything: 

"The turkey is done.  The lurkey is done.  The turkey is lurky.  Fricka-fricka...Word."

"Izzy is busy.  Izzy is bad. Izzy smells bad.  Fricka-fricka...Word."

"Livi can fly.  Fly through the sky.  Fly oh my.  Fricka-Fricka...Word."

He thinks he's hysterical.  He does the fake gang hand gestures and crosses his arm.   He bounces up and down, he turns his cap around.   He's about as ghetto as my grandmother.  The socks with UGG slip ons don't help.

And now he won't stop.

"I'm going to sleep.  Sleep.  Sleep.  Sleep.  Sleep Meep Peep.  Fricka-fricka-word."

I've had enough and I have a plan.  No more Rap in the car and no more rap on TV.  I'm going to "Soft Listen" the rap right out of him.   I've loaded my iPod with James Taylor, Bread and Bill Withers.

And if that doesn't work, I'm going to put him on YouTube and embarrass the hell out of him.

...Fricka-fricka word.

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