I went out for a short while this evening. It’d been a couple days, which probably explains the following.
As I was returning to the parking garage after running my errand, I found myself walking behind a man and his adorable little girl, four years old, perhaps. From behind, all I could really see were a pair of long braids and this floppy stuffed primate strapped to her. Could’ve been a backpack; could’ve been a funky accessory. I should’ve been struck by the obvious charm of the whole thing, but all that went through my head were the words, “Why can’t you do it? Why can’t you set your monkey free? Always givin’ in to it. Do you love your monkey or do you love me?” That was from the George Michael track, “Monkey,” if you aren’t belting out the rest of the tune right now.
So yes, I sang that to myself in my head, silently cracked up, and then started to wonder when I might exceed the maturity level of 10.