Here's a cute article I found on the internet. I hope when I have kids they would be into U2!
Bono the baby sitter
(http://www.dailysouthtown.com/lifestyles/252646,121LIF2.article)
February 12, 2007
By Paige Fumo Fox Guest Columnist
As far as baby sitters go, I've been pretty lucky. My parents live 15 minutes away, and adore my two sons, Jeremy and Eli, as the dual center of the universe that they are.
The first outside-the-family baby sitter was Lisa, who was already in her 20s, had worked in a day-care center, and was probably better qualified to care for my children than I was. Abby brought her own favorite childhood books to share with the boys. Colleen is wonderfully low-key and was unfazed when Eli yanked out his hearing aids and wouldn't stop crying.
Then there's my other favorite baby sitter: Bono.
Bono shows up in my living room, and Jeremy, my 4-year-old, is suddenly well behaved -- except for the jumping on the couch. Bono entertains, and I can get dinner started without accidentally scorching the chicken or throwing cayenne instead of paprika into the marinade.
It's a one-sided relationship, of course, because Bono is only the Bono of the concert video we own. Jeremy pops in the video, grabs his toy microphone, dims the lights, and is transformed into a size 4T rock star.
He dances; he plays air guitar. He can pretty accurately mimic Bono's moves. Sometimes he adds his tambourine, maracas, toy guitar, conga drum or triangle. Sometimes he puts on a winter hat and pretends to be The Edge, who wears a similar hat in the video. Occasionally he grabs sticks and an assortment of plastic containers and acts like Larry Mullen Jr. on drums. Sometimes he hands Eli a maraca and lets his younger brother join in, but usually Jeremy is just a stage hog.
I know, I know. I've heard the admonishments: "TV is not a baby sitter." But for about a half hour, my kid is happy. He is dancing around the whole time it's on; he won't become part of the childhood obesity epidemic with that kind of kiddy cardio workout. And trust me; I read plenty of stories to him and spend plenty of Mommy time with him. If I can concentrate on pulling a decent meal together, that's one less frozen pizza in our bellies.
My husband and I indulge his U2 fanhood. My parents indulge it. Mom even brought back a leather jacket from her trip to Italy so he could dress like the rock star on our TV screen. During a visit to the Notebaert Nature Museum last summer, I pointed out to Jeremy a small mammal in an underground hole.
"Look, Jeremy," I said. "It's a mole--" He picked up on the reference to the lyrics to "Elevation" immediately.
"--digging in a hole, digging up my soul now, going down, excavation," he sang with a smile on his face. Boy, was I proud. He doesn't know what happened after "this old man, he played one, he played knick-knack on my thumb," but I don't really care.
I've heard and seen the video more times than I can count.
There's one four-letter word in it, which can easily be glossed over ("Honey, I think he said 'fudged.'") There are no scantily clad women. No one's drinking alcohol or smoking on stage. I'd rather see my kid -- any kid -- dancing like Bono than Britney. It's not Mr. Rogers wholesome, but it's way more enjoyable. No offense to Mr. Rogers.
Perhaps I let myself get carried away, thinking maybe Jeremy will be musically gifted. Perhaps he'll be a rock star -- a smart, sensitive one who respects women, doesn't do drugs, donates millions of dollars to worthy causes and writes nice, yet instantly classic songs that occasionally mention his mother in glowing lyrics. He'll patiently teach me to play guitar. I admit to spending a lot of my high school days in the attics or basements of friends with guitars, watching them copy Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and -- to indulge me -- The Edge. I wanted to be like them.
Maybe Jeremy's just bringing back some good memories.
Maybe it's just cute in the way WXRT used to sponsor the rock 'n' roll baby photo contest: adorable child doing grown-up things with unabashed enthusiasm.
Or maybe nothing makes me happier than watching my son just let loose and have a great time. So, sometimes I peek through the kitchen door while he's rockin' to "I Will Follow" and I overcook the chicken anyway.
Paige Fumo Fox is a Daily Southtown correspondent.
Bono the baby sitter
(http://www.dailysouthtown.com/lifestyles/252646,121LIF2.article)
February 12, 2007
By Paige Fumo Fox Guest Columnist
As far as baby sitters go, I've been pretty lucky. My parents live 15 minutes away, and adore my two sons, Jeremy and Eli, as the dual center of the universe that they are.
The first outside-the-family baby sitter was Lisa, who was already in her 20s, had worked in a day-care center, and was probably better qualified to care for my children than I was. Abby brought her own favorite childhood books to share with the boys. Colleen is wonderfully low-key and was unfazed when Eli yanked out his hearing aids and wouldn't stop crying.
Then there's my other favorite baby sitter: Bono.
Bono shows up in my living room, and Jeremy, my 4-year-old, is suddenly well behaved -- except for the jumping on the couch. Bono entertains, and I can get dinner started without accidentally scorching the chicken or throwing cayenne instead of paprika into the marinade.
It's a one-sided relationship, of course, because Bono is only the Bono of the concert video we own. Jeremy pops in the video, grabs his toy microphone, dims the lights, and is transformed into a size 4T rock star.
He dances; he plays air guitar. He can pretty accurately mimic Bono's moves. Sometimes he adds his tambourine, maracas, toy guitar, conga drum or triangle. Sometimes he puts on a winter hat and pretends to be The Edge, who wears a similar hat in the video. Occasionally he grabs sticks and an assortment of plastic containers and acts like Larry Mullen Jr. on drums. Sometimes he hands Eli a maraca and lets his younger brother join in, but usually Jeremy is just a stage hog.
I know, I know. I've heard the admonishments: "TV is not a baby sitter." But for about a half hour, my kid is happy. He is dancing around the whole time it's on; he won't become part of the childhood obesity epidemic with that kind of kiddy cardio workout. And trust me; I read plenty of stories to him and spend plenty of Mommy time with him. If I can concentrate on pulling a decent meal together, that's one less frozen pizza in our bellies.
My husband and I indulge his U2 fanhood. My parents indulge it. Mom even brought back a leather jacket from her trip to Italy so he could dress like the rock star on our TV screen. During a visit to the Notebaert Nature Museum last summer, I pointed out to Jeremy a small mammal in an underground hole.
"Look, Jeremy," I said. "It's a mole--" He picked up on the reference to the lyrics to "Elevation" immediately.
"--digging in a hole, digging up my soul now, going down, excavation," he sang with a smile on his face. Boy, was I proud. He doesn't know what happened after "this old man, he played one, he played knick-knack on my thumb," but I don't really care.
I've heard and seen the video more times than I can count.
There's one four-letter word in it, which can easily be glossed over ("Honey, I think he said 'fudged.'") There are no scantily clad women. No one's drinking alcohol or smoking on stage. I'd rather see my kid -- any kid -- dancing like Bono than Britney. It's not Mr. Rogers wholesome, but it's way more enjoyable. No offense to Mr. Rogers.
Perhaps I let myself get carried away, thinking maybe Jeremy will be musically gifted. Perhaps he'll be a rock star -- a smart, sensitive one who respects women, doesn't do drugs, donates millions of dollars to worthy causes and writes nice, yet instantly classic songs that occasionally mention his mother in glowing lyrics. He'll patiently teach me to play guitar. I admit to spending a lot of my high school days in the attics or basements of friends with guitars, watching them copy Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and -- to indulge me -- The Edge. I wanted to be like them.
Maybe Jeremy's just bringing back some good memories.
Maybe it's just cute in the way WXRT used to sponsor the rock 'n' roll baby photo contest: adorable child doing grown-up things with unabashed enthusiasm.
Or maybe nothing makes me happier than watching my son just let loose and have a great time. So, sometimes I peek through the kitchen door while he's rockin' to "I Will Follow" and I overcook the chicken anyway.
Paige Fumo Fox is a Daily Southtown correspondent.
omg that's adorable!
). Elevation is my 5yr olds favourite song with MLK hot on it's heels.....My 7yr old is a Saints fanatic and my soon to be 4yr old loves EVERYTHING!!!
