Back story #1
If you haven’t figured it out already, we come from a musical family. Our grandpop was a musician by trade, our parents can carry a tune, I got the ability to play instruments, and Dude is a harmonizing machine.
Back story #2
Typically, the only time I sing full out is when I am in my car by myself. I do, however, sometimes sing in Dude’s presence. My rationale is that he won’t judge me.
…Oh how wrong I was.
Earlier this week, I was at our parents’ house. Mom had to drop her car off at the garage to get some work done on it, so she needed me to follow her in my car so I could drive her back home.
As she was getting her paperwork together, I was killing time by playing some Billy Joel on the piano. Dude was wandering around the living room behind me, happily singing/humming along to “The Longest Time.” Before I could finish the song, Mom announced she was ready.
As Dude and I got in my car, I continued singing the part of the song I didn’t get to finish. We have a routine where I’ll sing a couple lines of a song, and then pause and let him fill in the next phrase.
We had only gotten to the end of the driveway when I paused to let him fill in the appropriate lyrics. Instead of doing so, his hand shot towards my radio.
“No B101,” Dude said as he pushed the power button.
It was his way of saying, “I’m done listening to you. Time to put on real music.”