The stuff dreams are made of

I am a prime example of the idea that just because someone CAN have children does not mean that they SHOULD have children. Given the fact that I have two boys I can safely assume, barring any unfortunate confessions from my wife in the near or distant future, that I CAN have kids. The question now becomes SHOULD I have kids. I'll leave the following item as evidence that the answer is probably "no".

As mentioned in another post, I have recently introduced my oldest son, Ryan, to one of my favorite rock bands, Metallica. Not exactly children's music by any stretch of the imagination, but his favorite new song is potentially scary even for adults. The lyrics in "Enter Sandman" consist of the lead singer espousing the little boys and girls of the world to say their prayers every evening so that they will be protected from the nameless evil that lurks in the room after the lights go out. Additionally, there is reference to the idea that kids should sleep with one of their eyes open so as to ward off the "things that bite" and the "beasts under your bed, in your closet and in your head". Also, these things might take them to a place called "Never Never Land". Just writing this stuff down makes my bladder weak.

Now every time we get in the car he asks if he can listen to Metallica. I was all for this at first because he seemed to dig the song and I thought it was cool when we would sit at a stoplight with the windows down jamming out to what is arguably one of the best rock songs ever. Then, the other day, I hear a little voice in the backseat.

"something...something...little one don't forget my son...something...something"

Uh oh. I turn the music down from ear bleeding to barely audible. "Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you singing along?"

He laughs. "No!" He's a little shy when it comes to this sort of thing. He never cops to it when we catch him singing along to something.

"Ok..." Crap. He is singing along and appears to know some of the words. My wife is not going to be happy.

So I turn it back up loud so we can get the whole business of hearing damage out of the way before he hits puberty, and pretty soon I hear "...and of things that will bite..." from his high pitched voice. He is singing more loudly now and appears to be getting his whole body into it with the head banging and his little fists pumping. I can tell because I am secretly watching in the rear view mirror - he'd never do that if he knew I was paying attention.

When the song is over, he wants it played again, and of course I oblige. We both like it, and after all, it's just a song, isn't it?

Jen has already told me that the first time he wakes up in the middle of the night complaining that there is something under his bed or in the closet, I get to deal with it.