From time to time I like to highlight the joy of a well raised child and the agony of grown folk in need of a little parental guidance.
I used to love me some Nelly until the infamous video, which shall remain unnamed to keep you all from crashing Google Video and YouTube looking for it. As much as I loved his little ditties, I would cringe when he sang, “It’s Getting Hot in Herre” and that simple child would respond, “Ah…am…getting…so...hot. I…will…take…my…clothes…off.”
I don’t believe in beating children, whuppin’ them, or using pain in any form as a teaching aid. But my fingers would start doing that “where’s my switch” twitch every time I heard it. I wanted to yell, “Child, where is your mother?” I’m sure I muttered it a couple of times. Then I came up with my own chorus. It went like this:
Can I get a beat? Okay, alright... Uh! Uh! Uh!
I can’t let you go nowhere
'Less you acting a fool
Trying to be cool
I didn’t raise you like that
You know better
Put your clothes back on
Get your butt on home
I didn’t raise you like that
You know better
Ah, that feels better.
But my fingers would start doing that “where’s my switch” twitch every time I heard it. I wanted to yell, “Child, where is your mother?”
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