My boys need to be schooled proper in the ways of Rock and Roll with a basic knowledge and appreciation of the major players. You can have your Bruno Mars, but there’s gonna be Tom Petty.
At three, our oldest would “sit in” with the Eagles behind his miniature skins on "Hotel California" in it's entirety. "...she got the Mercedes Benz...UH!"
So when we pulled up the drive mid “Bohemian Rhapsody” and I refused to let him out of the car until he’d heard every lyric at a decibel befitting a King Kong cassette deck, class was in session.