Every so often the Fates (or Baby Jesus or Buddha, whomever you believe is the air traffic controller of this thing) will say “Let’s screw with Kristen, look how twitchy she gets”, and so it starts.
The story before the storySome 13 years ago Tom & I honeymooned at a couples resort on the island of Jamaica. It was an idyllic time, sun, food, more sun and sleep. The one thing, the only one thing was this song. You know the one “Ole’, Ole’ – Hot Hot Hot” followed by some sort of island drum. I don’t know the name or who sang it but we heard it no less than 100 times during our 5 day stay. Morning, noon & night “Hot Hot Hot – I’m Hot, She’s Hot, They’re Hot” – enough to drive a person mad. On the way to the airport as I put my head on Tom’s shoulder in our air conditioned shuttle bus the following conversation took place.
Tom – This trip was wonderful.
Kristen – Yes, thank you, it was.
Followed by companionable silence while we reflected on our week, then driver must have realized we had not heard the song for at least 20 minutes and turned it on. Kristen – One thing
Tom – Yes
Kristen – If I ever hear this “Hot Hot Hot” song again I am going to gouge my own ear drums out.
Tom – Agreed.
Present DayLast week I was at a children’s consignment sale and I found a DVD about Sesame Street Zoe learning how to dance. I thought “Perfect, maybe Annabelle will learn some moves that don’t require just spinning” and I bought it. I didn’t even notice on the case it read “Includes Bonus CD!” (You see where this is going right?)
Saturday morning while I got Nate down for his nap I let Annabelle watch the DVD, then she comes running into the kitchen waving the CD wanting to listen. I told her to go ahead; she knows how to use her CD player. The next thing I know my fillings are melting down my throat while I stand paralyzed – Déjà vu of the worst kind. Elmo is screeching “Hot Hot Hot” in my house. My sanctuary, my humble abode is being beseeched with Elmo and that nasal Big Bird going back and forth “I’m Hot, He’s Hot, She’s Hot”. The song ends, I hear Annabelle hit a button and it starts all over again. OMG – flashbacks – the song that won’t end.
By the time Tom gets home an hour later I am practically in a fetal position - I say “Go find out what your daughter is doing”. He walks into the living room to witness Annabelle, tutu on, arms above her head (the one move she learned from Zoe’s dance lesson), spinning, singing “Hot Hot Hot”. He got that same glazed look in his eye as he turned to me and said “What the f**k?” I shook my head, there were no words.
To date – I have heard that song another 100 times.
look at the cart tucked beside the stove – the whole top of it was covered with groceries I was putting away and the bottom that normally holds a bucket along with the coffee containers- to see Nate had pushed the bucket off to the side and crawled up under. He was having a good old time chewing on the cool stainless steel bars and using the coffee cans as a drum.
