Mr6 and I had a date to the school disco last Friday. He requested gel for his hair, with a specific level of ‘sticky-upness’ required.
I did my best, but it clearly wasn’t good enough because when we go there he dragged over a friend, pointed to his magnificent Beckham-like spikes, and said ‘that’s what I wanted Mum, can you do that next time?’.
Back to the bathroom mirror I go.
During our short walk to the disco, he practised his Gangnam Style moves, hopping and bopping and twirling along beside me.
He knows only one line: “Heeeeeey, sexy lady, wah, wah, wah, wah-wah”. This he sang over and over again with this kind of thing in between: “bing-bong, ding-dong, can, wokking Gangnam Style”.
It was all highly entertaining.
As we approached the gate, he turned to me. “What does sexy mean, Mum?” And once again I was caught on the hop, sputtering and spluttering, reaching for an answer to a ‘big question’. It’s like he plans these things.
“Er, well,” I said. “When you get older, MUCH older, you’ll like girls, a lot, and, er, when you find a girl you want to kiss you’ll, er, probably think that she’s, er, sexy.”
He laughed. “Girls! Ha! As if, Mum!”
I laughed too. “Well, you will. But that’s why it’s a grown up word and it’s not a good word for little boys to use. It sounds all wrong. See?”
He laughed again. “Kissing! Ha!”
And off he went, ‘wah, wah, wah, wah-wah-ing’ as he went. Wokking Gangnam style all the way.