Jack Johnson

Ages ago an aquaintance said that their favorite artist of all time was Jack Johnson. I really slagged him for it. Not so much for taste–but just that it didn’t seem like Jack had done enough to be an all-time fave. The response was, “What’s better than relaxing on the beach, with beers and a small fire listening to JJ?” *Cue gales of laughter*
Over time, and for no apparent reason, this has become one of the little touchstones of my marriage. You know, the little jokes that you have with your partner that only you guys think are funny. Any question about “what’s your favorite” will get “Jack Johnson” as an answer. Or, “What could be better…” Or something about “chillaxing”.
Of course, I really hadn’t listened to a lot of Jack Johnson. But we got the Curious George CD when our son was born and I admit, I played it a few times during those long, long days of maternity leave, stuck with a baby I really didn’t know what to do with, stressed out that I wasn’t stimulating his mind with a variety of songs. (I KNOW! I was nuts.) It was pleasant enough, but I can’t say I listened too closely. I was sleep deprived and and anxious.
The other night my throat was too sore from strep to sing my boy to sleep, so I asked him if he wanted me to play a CD. He, of course, had to look at all his music and pick. He picked the “monkey music”.
The next night, he asked for monkey music again. I turned it on and he kept pointing at the CD player and saying “broken”. It was working fine–not broken. It was totally a wtf moment. And, since he’s two, he started to cry.
FINALLY, I remembered that track 2 is a song CALLED “Broken”. So I played it.
He stood up in his crib and put his arms out for a hug. I picked him up and we swayed. He moved in for the big snuggle and said, “This is mama’s song. I like this music.”
Me too bub. It’s my favorite.