I love the song “The Name Game.” I think it’s the really deep poet in me.
Let’s sing a little refresher:
Alex, alex bobo-balex, Banana-nana fo-falex Fee-fi-mo-malex Alex!
Since I have a small goal of my life turning into a musical, I’ve sung “The Name Game” to my kids for years. It’s an easy way to see if groups of people will begin a choreographed dance behind me while my kids and I snap and sashay.
This particular song means a variety of people get made into musical numbers. People like my cats.
Until I realized our newest cats are names Huckle and Nugget. Because those songs go something like this (please sing aloud for the full effect but not with your kids within earshot like I do over and over):
Nugget, Nugget bo-bugget, Banana-nana fo-fugget (it you’re singing you’ll know what I mean) Fee-fi-mo-mugget Nugget!
How my kids knew to name their cats after curse words, I am unsure and mostly impressed. I can only surmise there is a cursing gene since my favorite pastime as a second grader was trying to get my best friend to repeat long strings of swear words.
This afternoon, my son presented his musical to me — complete with comfortable seating and a snack. It was about eating a HUGE LUNCH. The big number was I GOT CHEESE.
I understand where he’s coming from. I have always wanted my life to be in a musical. The idea of people walking along just living their lives and then suddenly breaking into song and dance? BE STILL MY HEART.
The first musical I ever went to on Broadway was Cats. I arrived with every song memorized and had even read the T.S. Eliot poems of which the show is based. (Crazy cat ladies rule.) I remember that the theater went dark and I could hardly breathe. The cats walked right by us and I didn’t know whether to smile and jump away. And as the music swelled, the world on the stage was the only one I knew.
After that I went to all the major Broadway shows armed with the songs in my head and on piano: The Phantom of the Opera, Miss Saigon, Les Miserable. I even went to the smaller ones Like Jelly’s Last Jam, Chicago and Smokey Joe’s Cafe.
I think that it’s why I cry at almost every YouTube flash mob. Tears of jealousy.
So in college I told a few friends of this musical dream. How I wished for the day where we’d be sitting around talking about the usual boys, beer and social oppression, and suddenly, we’d all SING.
I had a partial song from my sister’s middle school chorus concert that I used as an example of JUST HOW THIS COULD SPONTANEOUSLY HAPPEN:
Person A: It’s snowing! Person B: It’s snowing? Person C: Hey look it’s SNOWING! Person A thru C singing: SNOW IS FALLING SOFTLY FALLING OH WHAT A WONDERLAND IT WILL BE.
And then I went on my unmusical way.
A year passed, and I continued my quiet college career of changing majors five times.
As usual, I was sitting on the couch avoiding homework while my closest college friends, C & C, were looking out the window.
C: It’s snowing!
Other C: It’s snowing?
I looked up and my heart filled up to bursting because IT’S HAPPENING SPONTANEOUSLY and I yelled: HEY LOOK IT’S SNOWING!
And all three of us sang.
Who knew that someone could love me that much?
My life had been completed. I’m surprised that I didn’t die right then and there. Or at least end up disfigured wearing a mask and kidnapping beautiful singers with the hypnotic Music of the Night.
It was THAT AWESOME.
More years passed, and I met my husband. As always, I relayed the story of musical awesomeness.
And now, without fail, whenever it’s snowing and my darling husband is home, my life goes musical. If only I could get the kids to sashay in unison, the dream would be complete.
Since it’s hard to understand the fantastic-ness that I’m describing, here is a video reenactment (If you can’t see the video, click here.):