I feel so old when I criticize contemporary music lyrics, but a current hit really has me steamed.

I keep hearing my girls sing "Do the Helen Keller." So I asked what it means to "do the Helen Keller," and of course they have no clue. They just like the song.

Here are the obscene lyrics by 3Oh!3:

"Don't trust a ho, never trust a ho
Won't trust a ho cause the ho won't trust me

Shush girl, shut your lips
Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips"

How could any recording company or radio station allow this to get through? Where is the self-censorship? If they sang, "Do the Adolf Hitler and goose-step like a Nazi," would that become a hit too?

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I was in the car with my daughter when I got the news about Michael Jackson.

For me it was personal. Not only did we lose the “King of Pop,” I lost my very first pop icon.

I had the “I Love Michael” buttons. Every inch of my wall was filled with Michael Jackson posters. When my parents bought me my first record player (yes, record player), they threw in the “Super Freak” single by Rick James and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” album.

I still love Michael to this day. Despite his tarnished image in the media, I put on “Man in the Mirror” and I feel inspired. And a party just isn’t a party without one or two Michael Jackson jams to close it out.

At least back then I was allowed to just love Michael without having to think about all his personal dilemmas. Too bad our kids aren’t allowed the same luxury.

My daughter already knows Chris Brown did something bad to Rihanna, as she put it. She knows Lindsey Lohan’s battles. And I’ve had to set the record straight on some of the Hannah Montana rumors.

It’s sad that with all the gossip on television and the Internet it’s almost impossible for our kids to embrace an artist for their music and their talent and leave it at that.

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Can’t beat this: My 3-year-old starting singing “Rapper’s Delight” the other day. Here was his line: “Hotel, motel, Holiday Inn…” I consider this among my greatest successes as a father. There’s a huge demand for video of this event, but it doesn’t exist yet. So enjoy the real thing in the meantime.

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Since my kids have taken over my car radio, I am getting to know their music.

They've been singing the lyrics to "Right Round," by Flo Rida (pictured here), which sounds suspiciously like a song from my youth, "You Spin Me Around (Like A Record)," by Dead or Alive. However, Flo Rida's lyrics are basically obscene:

"You spin my head right round, right round
When you go down, when you go down down"

and

"From the top of the pole I watch her go [down]
She got me throwin my money a[round]
Ain’t nothin more beautiful to be [found]
It’s goin down down."

It's both amusing and disturbing to hear my kids sing these lyrics when they don't know what they mean. However, a growing number of studies show kids who like these songs are more likely to engage in teen sex.

Which brings up many questions: How do you control what your kids are listening to? And if you are with them when a song like "Right Round" comes on, does changing the channel encourage them to find ways to listen to it when you're not there?

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The news breaking today is that Chris Brown and Rihanna have reunited. That's according to People magazine.

Once again, the two superstars are, whether they intend to or not, sending messages to teens about what's proper behavior and what's acceptable. That's the price that comes with being a role model.

I think my stepdaughters are pretty sharp about what they would allow, but I also think some pretty sharp people have nonetheless been the victims of domestic violence. So we intend to have another talk with the girls about the boundaries they should set in their lives.

In the meantime, I don't envy Chris Brown or Rihanna. They're private pain is a public discussion, and that is one of the prices of fame.

By taking Chris Brown back, Rihanna has told the world either that he's innocent or that she's forgiven him. If he's innocent, that's great. If she's forgiven him, then she's taken a huge risk. It's a risk that's hers to take, and hers alone. I can't judge her for it.

I'm not an expert on domestic violence. I just interview them from time to time. And they tell me that episodes of violence are often followed by apologies and promises to change, and then by an attempt at reconciliation. After that, it can only go one of two ways: either the violence doesn't happen again, or it does - and worse.

If this was indeed an abuse case, then for Rihanna's sake, I can only pray that Chris Brown proves himself worthy of her trust and forgiveness.

Anyway, that's what I plan to tell my kids. What do you plan to tell yours?

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Let me continue the music-themed posts. Among my favorite gifts this year was a CD from a good friend that included Bob Dylan’s version of “This Old Man.” It appears on a charity album for pediatric AIDS. A reviewer on Amazon.com fittingly describes it as “unforgettable” and “phrased and delivered as only Dylan can with his mercurial invention and powerful character.”

Dylan echoed through my house when I was kid. Hearing his voice now brings me back to the rural Illinois home where I spent my formative years. Playing his music for my kids gives me a certain E.B. White “Once More to the Lake” chill, but it’s worth it. Take a listen.

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Do they even call them jukeboxes anymore?

Kayla stepped up to one of those gizmos at a restaurant the other day and scrolled through the music selection. She didn't want to play anything. She just wanted to see what they had. She returned to our table with a self-satisfied grin.
"They have Chris Brown, but no Jonas Brothers," she said. It's because the Jonas Brothers are lousy, she reasoned.

Lately, Kayla and Paxtynn have been locked in a battle of the fans. Paxtynn, 13, enjoys the Jonas Brothers. Kayla does not share her enthusiasm, which is fine. What irks me is that Kayla cannot seem to allow Paxtynn to enjoy her fandom in peace. Why would anyone like the Jonas Brothers when Chris Brown is so much better?

Oh, please. Since when do other musical acts have to be bad in order for the one you enjoy to be good?

Could you imagine Billy Joel fans hating on Elton John fans?

"'Daniel' is boring. 'Piano Man' rules."

"'Piano Man'? More like 'Piano Loser.'"

Chris Brown is a fun entertainer. The Jonas Brothers are fun, too. There's room in our house for both their CDs and both their posters. And, dare I say it? It's possible to be a fan of both, kids.

Not me, of course. I mean, why would I be a fan of Chris Brown or the Jonas Brothers when Linda Eder and Lea Salonga are still singing?

Don't know who they are? Why not? What's wrong with you?

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I got lots of suggestions after a recent post looking for new music for Alexander, 2, who loves Raffi. Thanks for those. Raffi still remains the first pick, but I had success with something yesterday, the soundtrack to O Brother, Where Art Thou?

Not everything worked, I must say. On a few tracks he said, “I don’t like this song, daddy” (including “I am a Man of Constant Sorrow”). But he seemed to enjoy “Big Rock Candy Mountain,” “You Are My Sunshine” and “I’ll Fly Away.” It was fun since I’m a fan of the soundtrack, which is a lively mix of humor, politics, religion and Southern culture. By the way, I read in Wikipedia that there are kid-friendly versions “Big Rock Candy Mountain” in case you don’t want your kid singing about “the cigarette trees” and streams of alcohol.

Anyway, it wasn’t perfect, of course. He still asked for Raffi when we got in the car today.

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Last week, our parenting blog colleagues at the Orlando Sentinel began a discussion about children and music. (One parent worried about her young daughter coming home singing the lyrics to a rap song. ) And at transPARENT, fellow blogger Matthew Strozier lamented that he had to give up his hope (at least for now) of introducing grown-up music to his two-year-old. His son loooves Raffi.

My three-year-old son did too. But then he discovered Avril Lavigne. And Alicia Keys. And Journey.

I thank the iPhone and the fact that I love to sing in the car on the 40-minute drive down to my parents’ house in Miami each weekend.

And in some cosmic sense, maybe the fact that my son was born to a mix CD my husband and I made for the special occasion has something to do with it. Officially, our son was born to Sade’s “By Your Side.” A few seconds earlier, and he would have been born to the Santana/Rob Smith 1999 hit “Smooth.” (How I remembered this amid a non-medicated birthing process is beyond me.)

You never know whether your kid is going to be a music aficionado. My advice? Expose him or her often and early. And, as much as possible, engage in the music. Sing and dance together. Be silly. Make it fun.

To this day, I still insist on dancing to the Go Diego Go! song before each episode. I can’t think of a time when my son – even in the worst of moods – didn’t want me to pick him up and twirl him around.

He also pulls out his Fisher Price piano every time he’s inspired: Usually when he sees former Journey frontman Steve Perry play the piano in the “Don’t Stop Believin’” video we downloaded from iTunes. My son quickly learned how to navigate my husband’s iPhone and likes to replay his favorite songs and videos over and over again.

As for other grown-up music, he learned on those trips down to Miami to request certain songs: There’s the CD that has some oldies like “Sugar” and “Buttercup.” And the Indigo Girls CD, which has, according to my son, the “Mommy and Daddy” song. (Our wedding DVD, which my son loves to watch, has as part of its soundtrack the IG song “Closer to Fine.”)

But, by far, my son’s favorite, No. 1 request, several months running, is “No One,” by Alicia Keys. In my household, it’s better known as “Special Music Song.” That’s the term my son coined the first time I played the song for him and told him: “I have a special song for you.”

Hot Wheels in hand, head bobbing to the beat, he does his best to sing the song. Just last week, as we were listening to the song on the way to school, he told me he wanted to sing it to his friends. A cute notion, but one I thought he’d soon forget.

He didn’t.

As soon as he stepped into the classroom, he found his best friend and started:

“No one, No one, No wa-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-n, (mumble, mumble, mumble) feel for you,” he began. Then he skipped to his favorite part: “Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, Oh (oh), Oh (oh), O-o-oh.”

Now that’s music to my ears.

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We thought it wouldn’t happen. We told ourselves, we’ll do things differently. But, yes, Raffi has entered our home. Our 2-year-old, Alexander, loves him. He has a Raffi CD from my stepmother, a preschool teacher. For a long time he never showed any great interest in it. Then about a week ago, he learned how to turn the stereo system on and off. And he realized that he could press a button and – voila - there would be Raffi! Life has really never been the same for him.

Or for us. We walk around the house now humming the tunes (“Down by the Bay” is my favorite). In fact, I heard the same Raffi CD four or five times in one morning the other day. Alexander, for his part, lies on the floor in front of the stereo system, as though he half expects Raffi himself to jump out and say hello. He’s even developed favorite songs, and asks me to play them (“I don’t like this one daddy”).

Our fantasy was that we would teach him to appreciate grown-up music early on, so he would enjoy U2 and Sarah Vaughan in preschool. But when I played a Vaughan song the other day, he said, “Yucky music.” My wife tried another tact: she found a different CD of children’s music and got him interested in that. But this one just isn’t as good, at least to my ears. Raffi may get old, but he’s good. So who do you like?

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I’m convinced my three-year-old son is a budding musician. Not the classically trained kind. He’s more of a pound your fists on the Fisher-Price piano and play the harmonica while trying to brush your teeth kind of kid.

For Christmas, my husband desperately wanted to buy our son the Blue Man Group keyboard and drums. He was very disappointed when Santa drew the line on expensive gifts at a 5-speed miniature Corvette, which said husband also desperately wanted for our son. (Starts to make me wonder whom the Christmas gifts are for.)

Now’s my chance to see if those Blue Man instruments are worth the investment. The Blue Man Group brings their How to be a Megastar Tour 2.1 to the BankAtlantic Center in Sunrise on Saturday. Tickets aren’t cheap, but it’ll be the closest thing to a “date night” I’ve had in months.

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Apparently the "Mozart Effect'' theory, which held that listening to Mozart sonatas would somehow increase your child's intelligence, has been debunked over the years.

I didn't know this. I didn't keep current.

And I've been making my daughter listen to Phantom of the Opera. It's not a sonata, exactly. But it seems to me that it should qualify as classical music, and as music that would increase a child's intelligence, simply because it's a soundtrack that instinct tells you your child will hate.
And things children hate generally equate to things that will make them smarter.

Yet she loves it. She asked for, even, when I was playing Radiohead.

"That music is getting in my head. I don't want it in my head.''

"What do you mean, in your head?'' I asked.

"It's getting inside my head. Just play the Opera.''

Phantom of the Opera, that is.

I've gotten interested in children's musical tastes, though I haven't heard very many personal stories about this. I really wonder: Is the love of cheesy music a lifestyle choice, or are you born that way? Are some kids just not into music at all?

My son is so un-musical it's just weird. He's in sixth grade, but he never listens to music. He doesn't play the radio or have a favorite band.

And I can' t understand it, because my life would never have been the same without Donny and Marie Osmond. I was a cultist, really. I Donny-worshiped.

I played piano, I listened to Abba, I sang French songs as a street urchin in a professional production of Carmen when I was my son's age. (And I'm not a good singer, my husband often tells me. But his "singing'' is more akin to howling.)

Lily, the 5-year-old, loves the cheeseball stuff. Abba, Elton John, the Bee Gees.

She was singing to the BeeGees' "Jive Talking'' last week.

"Jiiive donkey,'' she sang.

She calls rap music "crazy music.'' And as I said, she thinks Radiohead invades her brain, in a bad way.

I really wonder if I've overly influenced her musical tastes because she commutes with me. Or whether she was born loving easy listening.

* * *

Unrelated strange question from Lily: "Do you know how to play the guitar while you're driving?''

And even stranger question from Creed: "If you could grow a beard, would you?''

bw

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In The Three Martini Playdate, a brilliant diatribe on surviving parenthood with all your sensibilities and culture in tact, Christie Mellor includes a chapter called “Children’s Music: Why?”

She, like many parents, could see no need for Barney, Big Bird, Raffi or any of the rest. Having listened to more children’s music in the past seven years than most people hear even snippets of in a lifetime, I can tell you with certainty: She is absolutely right. I reached a point when I simply could not listen to another album by Tom Paxon, Tom Chapin or any other Tom, Dick or Trout Fisher in America playing a guitar and singing clever ditties for kids, usually with a moral.

Don’t get me wrong, there has been some really good music made with kids in mind. Laura Kelly noted several I missed in my last music-related post, including brilliant albums by Jack Johnson and They Might Be Giants. There’s one more album I really need to add, one by various rock musicians called For the Kids. Proceeds of this album benefit VH1’s Save the Music Foundation, which supports music programs in schools.

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Nancy's posting about Greg Wiggle got me to thinking about kids music, which is a good thing, because this is a subject about which I actually know something.

For several years, up until about a year ago, I reviewed children's music for South Florida Parenting. This meant that I was treated by recording-industry PR people with huge piles of children's music CDs. The bad thing was, I had to listen to it all. I need to tell you, most of it just made me cringe.

My main rule of thumb in judging any children's music was: Can I listen to this for more than five minutes?

Thankfully, I did find a few stand-outs over the years for which the answer was yes. And that's not counting the various Mozart and Beethoven CDs for babies and the non-stop flow of music from the Walt Disney Records machine (fueled by a deep catalog of Disney movie music and everything on the Disney Channel, which seems to create a new star a month).

Here's my less-than-definitive list of good, fun, listenable, worthwhile music for children.

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I'll admit it. I heard the news that Greg Wiggle, er, Greg Page, was leaving the Wiggles and I was really bummed. Sure, I'm about to turn 27. I mean, 37. Of course, the Wiggles are for kids. My own first impression of the toddler megagroup was one of disdain. And yeah -- I know this is relatively old news about Page's departure, but I've only now been given the opportunity to vent on a global scale.

But here's the thing. I got hooked on the Wiggles for at least a year. My son absolutely adored the Wiggles. Knew every simplistic song by heart. Did all the dances. And so did I. The things you'll do when you become a parent. But the joy that he got from watching the Wiggles was enough to suck me in. In time, it no longer seemed strange that four grown Australian men were singing songs about fruit salad along with a pirate and a dinosaur named Dorothy. In fact, my husband paid more money than I care to know about to take our son to the Wiggles show.

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