
The clock says 5:30AM. Arghhhh! I roll over and sit up. What’s that noise? I hear a drumbeat. I hear vocals. I think I hear an electric guitar. Then THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
I stumble out of bed, down the hall. More THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. You’ve got to be kidding me: Are those … giggles?
I push open the door to the kids’ bedroom. Before my red-rimmed eyes are two fully awake (inexplicably dressed for the day) five year olds. Did I mention it was 5:30AM?
The new Justin Roberts CD Pop Fly was blaring. Said children were jumping up and down with such zeal that the floor boards were shaking. I half-expected to see one crash through the hardwood, arms and head sticking out of the top of the hole, legs flailing beneath and visible only from the family room sofa.
Instead, they just looked at me. “We’re listening to the new Justhin Rahbarts!” Did I mention it was 5:30AM?
I can almost understand. Almost. The CD’s good. Catchy. Fun. Witty. It’s got a great beat and you can dance to it. Plus, just the day before we caught Sir Roberts and his band the Not Ready for Naptime Players at a concert in Washington, DC. Look, even if you haven’t been to a concert since, like, that 1993 UB40 one, I’m sure you remember what it’s like to get juiced up by a good live performance. You wanted to go home and listen to the cassette tape over and over, right?
If you aren’t yet enlightened, here’s the scoop: Justin is one of the darlings of the kiddie indie rock world. Except his melodies aren’t really just for the wee ones. In the same vein as They Might be Giants, Barenaked Ladies and Lisa Loeb, he successfully blurs (and in some cases practically erases) the lines between adult and kid music.
In other words, Justin *rocks* for them AND — hallelujah! — for us.
It’s easy to get caught up in the alt-folksy-funk he and his band spin. On the surface Pop Fly tracks may sound like songs for the minis, but listen closely and you’ll notice there’s something for everyone. Take “Stay-At-Home Dad” for example. If you are ancient enough, you may remember an old 70s perfume ad that Justin’s lyrics mimic:
“Now he can bring home the bacon.
He fries it up in a pan.
At dinnertime when my mom gets home,
She’s like his biggest fan.”
The commercial before your time? Trust me, you gotta see it:
[Note: I know you're groaning. Of course you are! But everyone -- and I mean EVERYONE -- knew how completely tacky it was even back then. So laugh away, but with us... not at us.]
You’ve probably watched the 
I know you know who 
I guess it was inevitable that I’d get a little weary of turning out school lunches every day. When my younger son started kindergarten I was full of grand plans. I bought a cute tool that cut a sandwich in half on the diagonal with a fancy wavy line. I made things that looked like other things, like pinwheel wraps, or had cute names, like ants on a tree.












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