Tooling down the road on a fine High Plains Saturday, the Lady of the House and I were listening to the radio. On came the heavy guitars and rockin’ beat of “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll” by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts. She cranked it up.
While I drove, the Lady of the House was rocking her head back and forth with her hair flying around.
“Now this is the original head-bangin’ music,” she said.
“My two little girls used to like to dance to this,” I said.
“I’ll bet that was cute.”
“Yeah,” I continued, “They danced on top of the coffee table like it was a stage holding imaginary microphones. They tried to get the words right. It came out like, ‘I love wok ‘n’ woll, so put ‘nother dime in the coop box, lady.’”
The Lady of the House turned the radio down. There was a deathly silence.
“On the coffee table?” she asked, looking over the top of her sunglasses.
“Children dancing on the table? Nothing about that idea sounds wrong to you?”
“Noooo,” I said. “It was a real sturdy coffee table, you know, one of those things that looks like a big block with a storage thingy in the center. No harm was done, look at them now, all grown up raising families on their own…”
“It’s not about the coffee table collapsing,” she said. “It’s about excited children falling and cracking their heads open on the sturdy coffee table.”
“Oh, I didn’t think of that.”
“Obviously,” she said.
“Well, you know, it was something they wanted to do …,” my voice trailed off as I saw that the Lady of the House was giving me “The Look.”
“It’s a good thing you and I didn’t have children together,” she said as she cranked the radio back up.