Max and I were in Ruby on our way to BFK’s new place. We had all gathered to help her move some of the more fragile stuff before the movers came. Before we pulled out of the old abode I quick cobbled together a very-special Max playlist, plucking out as many of his favorite songs as I could in the 3 minutes I had until we left. The list included:
Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town, Cake
Stay Home, Self
Lost in the Supermarket, Ben Folds
Life is a Highway, Rascal Flats
Going the Distance, Cake
ABC, The Jackson 5

and some other things I can’t remember at the moment.

Max was having a grand old time clicking through the songs and reading the titles, at one point this conversation ensued:
“Rock in the suburbs,” Max said, reading from Kathleen Turner Overdrive’s screen. “What’s that mean?”
“Rocking the suburbs?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“It’s what we do every day Max, everyday.”
“What?”
“We rock the suburbs,” I said.
“Oh yeah, we do rock Aunt Jodi.”