I have had “We Are the World” running through my head all day. Don’t ask me why. Maybe I heard it somewhere or maybe I caught a glimpse of a man wearing a bandana on his head all Bruce Springstein-like and my brain got the subliminal message to sing about “saving our own lives.”
I don’t know.
Finally, this afternoon I got annoyed with this particular ear worm and got the great idea to just let the song out — you know, sing it. Really sing it.
So I did.
I got only part-way through my rendition, though, before I felt the burning sensation of many eyes. I stopped mid-performance to see three of my children, lined up before me. All of them looked just a little bit … horrified.
“What is that you are singing?” one of them demanded.
“We Are the World,” I answered. “You know … um, that song? The one that all the stars sang for charity … uh … never mind.”
I departed to clean the bathroom. And finish my song.
Maybe I’m getting old. But I prefer to think that my kids are still just too young to recognize how AWESOME I am.