Both Mum and Dad love music. Dad likes to fluff around on the piano, and spent most of his teenage years surrounded by synths, drum-machines and sequencers, and then in Luxembourg (where he met Mum) he became a DJ, playing some music called “Trance”; mum played the tuba and balalajka (I don’t even want to start thinking about that combination), and has a broad taste in music, as well as very musical parents (unlike Dad’s, who have problems knowing the difference between the piano and pea-soup).

So it isn’t surprising that I’m subjected to an overwhelming amount of music. I can recognise a number of instruments within individual songs, which seems to impress Mum and Dad, though, if truth be told, that isn’t a difficult task: going to the toilet on the toilet sends them into raptures (and earns me a multi-coloured dragonfly sticker to put on my cupboard).

Dad has been teaching me to descry the guitar sound in one of his favourite songs from a band known as Depeche Mode. The song is from their latest CD, and is called Precious, and he thinks it’s their best release for quite some time. I like it too, but I don’t know whether it’s because I actually like the track, because Dad likes it (and I get caught up in his euphoria), or whether it’s because I’m guarenteed a dance in his arms whenever it’s played.

I love, of course, Dr Bombay and Dr MacDoo, and Dad’s trance stuff (which I call “boom, boom, boom”) is both relaxing ( I got to hear a fair bit when I was inside Mum’s tummy) and great fun (I get to dance with both Mum and Dad).

I know they are going to continue this musical education, but there seems to be a ban on someone who I believe to be “Bruce Springsteen”, whoever the fuck he is.

A few years ago I was introduced (by Jo’s brother, Jocke) to a certain Dr. Bombay, the alter-ego of Swedish-born Denmark resident, Jonny Jakobsen.
Dr. Bombay became very famous in Sweden about a decade ago, with his CD “Rice and Curry”, which not so subtley realated his “life” in India. With such songs as “S.O.S. (The Tiger Took My Family)”, the humour in the songs never crossed the line to spitefullness, and to this day it manages to bring a smile to my face.
Freya has also been acquanted to the good doctor (and more recently to his relative, Dr. Macdoo, a Scottish Indian), and there seldom passes a day where she demands a listen. Her favourites seem to be “Shaky Snake” and “my Sitar”.

Don’t know why I haven’t written about this earlier, but I’ve been really busy exploring the world (and the box with Daddy’s beads in). Anyway, it’s high-time I told myself a few things I like, so let’s start with the easiest: TV.

I think the first program I showed Mum and Dad I liked was Bolibompa, a children’s TV show shown every weekday. It wasn’t so much the show itself as the theme music and green dragon at the beginning of the show. I could find myself dancing wildly to the beat. 10/10 for entertainment (my parents, that is).

Soon after I got into Teletubbies, which isn’t surprising because some psychology bod helped in the making of it. The pretty colours, cute baby-faced charecters (Po rocks), the tediously slow (but educationaly giving) repetion of words and actions; it had everything!

The Jungle Book by those chaps at Disney. Wow! Elephants, snakes, a bear that scratches himself on rocks and trees while he sings, monkeys that..well do monkey stuff, elephants again. Do I need say more? (The vultures were a bit boring, though.)

Madagascar by some other chaps that aren’t Disney. It’s OK, actually. Seen it a few times and, while it didn’t have me rolling off my parents’ knees with laughter, it had some nice bits in it. Penguins, for example. Oh, and a lion, a rhino, a zebra, etc. Animals rock, too.

Ice Age (or Mammoth, as I like to say if I want to see it). More animals, with a sloth that bares a striking resemblence to a cuddly toy whose company I enjoy, Rune. It’s got snow too, which is cool since I just learned about snow, having experienced winter in Stockholm. Something I can relate to.

Dora The Explorer. I’ve just recently got into this. It’s a cartoon in Swedish, which helps me learn English (like I need it). Originally it was in American English/Spanish, and I fear that if I were to watch too much of the original I would die a torturous death. You see, Daddy and Mummy think that the accent of the American/Spanish Dora grates the ears and mashes the brain with a hot screwdriver. Personally, I have no idea what they are talking about.
Those are probably the most oft-watched of the bunch of stuff I get to see. No doubt I’ll have a few updates in the future.