Emma has learned to play the air guitar.
There. I’ve said it.
Words I never anticipated saying, let alone writing.
Last night I arrived home to see Emma, wearing a nightgown she had long ago outgrown, dinghy and grayed from years of washing in organic, environmentally safe detergent, strutting around the living room to music blaring at decibels rarely heard outside of professional performance spaces. Her right arm ramming down on imaginary strings, her left holding an imaginary microphone as she sang the lyrics or what she thought were the lyrics to Michael Jackson’s song Beat It. When she doesn’t feel confident of the words she lip synchs, dances and well, plays the air guitar. The other night, Nic commented, “Look Mom. Emma’s like one of those backup dancers. She’s really good.”
I have since printed out the lyrics to the song as I could not figure out how Emma’s words “… show em your pocket…” could possibly be part of a song about coming of age and manhood, unless said pocket contained a knife. But never mind. Each time Emma came to that part of the song, she’d thrust her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe for emphasis.
The actual lyrics are – “Showin how Funky Strong is your fight It doesn’t matter who’s wrong or right Just beat it, beat it, beat it..” I’m not sure I have the heart to correct her, she so loves theatrically shoving her hand into her pocket. It will come as a blow, I know. However, for the sake of using moments presented to us as teachable ones, I will show her the actual lyrics. It is perfectly plausible Emma may not care what Michael Jackson’s lyrics are, artistic license (hers) being what it is and all that.
We have come a long way since her Carole King’s Chicken Soup phase.
For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to: Emma’s Hope Book