I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOUR grandkids are like, but mine are exceptional. They really are! Exceptionally good looking … exceptionally bright … exceptionally fond of their Granddad … exceptionally talented. And you’d know what I mean if you could just hear them sing …
Like, I’ve got this seven-year-old with a voice like an angel. And when she sings, “Pokarekare Ana…” her lovely liquid notes give me goosebumps!
I’ve got two other granddaughters whose favourite song is a homemade version of “Frere Jacques”– a French song I learned at school. And they’re now old enough to add their own made- up, giggle-girly verses – wonderful!
I’ve got two giant grandsons who’re both into hip-hop – and they do these fine sound-effect renditions of songs I can’t understand by artists I’ve never heard of with names I can’t pronounce.
I’ve got a cuddly three-year-old, the youngest in our tribe, who can perform (in perfect pitch) a tune that Barney-the-Purple-Dinosaur sings: “I love you, you love me, we’re a happy fam-i-ly…”
I’ve got this miniature five-year- old, with sticky-outy blonde hair, who spent the first four years of his life singing, at the top of his squeaky little voice …
Bob da Builda, can we fuxit?
Bob da Builda, yes we dan!
And there’s another bigger kid who once entertained me and his grand- mother by singing ‘TheWarehouse’ jingle at least 39,000 times, while we drove the entire length of the South Island.
You haven’t got grandkids? Ahh, you don’t know what you’re missing!
