dragon doona dinosaur

My two boys love to sing, especially in the car. Once the seat belts are clicked and the car seats secured, one of them will ask almost immediately for "Dinoco" or "Mack" - their words for the Cars movie soundtrack. And we'll drive down the road and sing, over and over, to "Life Would Be A Dream" and "Route 66" and "Real Gone", songs I suspect every parent of every boy under the age of 5 can sing from memory. Well, I do, at least.

Inevitably, I get sick of listening to Cars, over and over, and I'll turn on something else, maybe a Pandora station or my own mix of songs from my phone. (This they call "Mommy's music" and it's usually met with a lot of protest.) Sometimes, we'll sing one of the handful of songs they've learned from preschool or daycare: A-B-C, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, The Days Of The Week (sung charmingly to The Addams Family theme), Jesus Loves Me.

Aidan, for those of you who haven't met him, is my little rule follower, type A, everything-has-its-place boy. He is the older of the two, and it shows in his behavior. He is responsible, even for a spirited 4 year old boy. When I turn around and ask if he wants to sing A-B-Cs, he will. Or he'll say he doesn't want to sing A-B-Cs, and then lets everyone know what other familiar song he will sing instead, in preparation. Usually, he has to sing it solo. (Gee, I can't figure out where he gets that trait.) But for the most part, he is predictable. Singing songs will only have one of a limited few outcomes: sing the requested song solo, sing another known song solo. Sometimes he'll sing with me. Sometimes. Not often.

(A side note for all you parents convinced you must have horrid voices based on your kids' reactions to your singing: I actually have a degree in voice. I even made it to grad school, so I'm pretty sure I can at least hold a tune. I don't break out in operatic voice or anything - I just sing straight. And both boys vehemently protest my singing pretty much EVERY TIME. "No Mommy! Don't sing!" So don't take it personally.)

Brendan - Bubba - on the other hand, is my free spirit. When it comes to singing, and life in general, you don't know what's going to come out of his mouth. He is my younger son, the child who, in the same 60 seconds, will have you dying from just how adorable he is and pulling your remaining hair out in frustration at his antics. He is the kid who goes from one calamity to another without interruption, the child who needs protective gear just living his life. He is predictably unpredictable, and that definitely applies to his choice of singing. If you ask him to sing A-B-Cs with you, he might. Or he might launch into something completely made up.

Enter "Dragon Doona Dinosaur".

I have no idea where he picked this up, this crazy, jumbly, made-up song. My best guess is that a) he loves singing, b) he loves being silly, c) he loves dinosaur and went through a phase recently where ALL he wanted to watch was Dinosaur Train, and d) he had not heard any songs about dinosaurs. So he made up one on his own. It even rhymed. It is to the tune of the A-B-C song (or Twinkle Twinkle, if you prefer). It can take many variations, but the consistent opening of late is "Dragon Doona Dinosaur! Abo-rani-abo-more!" There might be some other syllables in the middle verses. He might just sing "Dragon Dragon Dinosaur!" for every line. The song changes nearly every time, making it almost impossible to sing along. He, too, wants to have his solo, likely for the attention of a solo versus Aidan's need for order and routine in getting to sing a solo. (Again, no idea where they get this from! Sheesh. STOP LOOKING AT ME.)

Dragon Doona Dinosaur, for all its creative charm, usually lands one or both of my kids in tears: it becomes this round robin of competitive one-upping-ness, the other trying to gain control of a song spinning wildly out of control. And the lucky adults in the car are left scrambling to distract them to another sing or activity, or at least find that bottle of ibuprofen. I groan inwardly every time I hear one of the boys launch into it, because I know what's coming. The tears, the hitting, the screams, the protests. I just want a nice, quiet ride with no drama. Dragon Doona Dinosaur pretty much guarantees chaos. I DON'T LIKE THAT SONG.

It's not what I had planned when I set off on that drive. It never is.

I get short, testy. I will inevitably utter some stern warning to the backseat that either gets them even more upset or indignant. I get frustrated, they whimper. And this is all before we get to our destination, where I can only hope they will behave in whatever public area. Eventually, they move on, but I'm left feeling anxious, muttering, exhausted.

"Can you please sing a real song?" I will often ask them.

I wanted to squash all the creativity out of them in order to have my order.

Tonight, on an after-dinner drive through the neighborhood, Bubba started the familiar refrain: "Dragon doona dinosaur!". I started to cringe and was about to ask him to sing a "real song" when I heard him singing "Dragon, dragon, dragondinosaur!", cramming that last word in to one note. He did this for every verse. It was HILARIOUS. We all laughed, Aidan included. And we might have missed that if I had given in to my first impulse to get him to "behave" and sing something else.

I know I can draw a thousand parallels to my life here: our circumstances lately feel like made-up lyrics, unexpected, unplanned songs to a slightly familiar tune. Things just aren't going the way we expected, and yet, the sun rises and sets, the tune of life still mostly familiar in its undercurrent. I don't like change. I don't want to have to give up control and let someone else take the reins, musically or otherwise. I often end up in frustration and tears. I just want life to behave.

But when I stop and go with the flow, let God lead us where he's guiding us, I laugh. I smile. Things are so much EASIER. There's not so much conflict, internal or otherwise. There's contentedness. When I stop to celebrate the joy of the moment, even amidst tears and protests (including my own), I find the joy and see less of the crud. I start protesting my situation less and laughing much more. When I learn not to cringe in anticipation of what I think is coming, whittle down my joy with all of my anxious, useless worrying, I open the door to all of these sweet, unexpected surprises... many of them coming from chubby, sticky hands and sugar-smeared cheeks.

I don't want to miss out on the surprise blessings God sends through a made-up song, an impromptu moment, my children's creativity, all because I need to have control.

In Genesis, Abraham obeyed God's command to go and yet only knew a few steps of the journey at a time, never knew the end destination until he actually got there. I can imagine that wandering in foreign lands, encountering all sorts of new and unexpected places and events, likely felt like the familiar song of his days getting a whole new set of verses... and he wasn't the one in control of them. He could have protested, found a spot along the way, and tried to get a regular rhythm back into his life. He didn't. Instead, he went with the flow, followed God's direction, building altars and celebrating each step of the way with faithfulness, even though he had NO idea where he was going to end up. He was human, so I know he probably longed for the familiarity and regularity of his home life. He left comfort for the unknown. He trusted and let go of control.

The next time we head out for a drive, I think I'll be the one to lead the rousing chorus of "Dragon Doona Dinosaur", and even if we have some tears and protesting, I know we'll all see what unexpected joy lies around the corner.