I suppose it's possible that Kiki Dee really did have the music in her, but that was almost 40 years ago, people, and I'm pretty sure the music has moved on.
And by "on" I mean "into Allison Shepard Holt." Take the other morning, when all of the Holts were up far too early. It was a few minutes after 6, and I suspect our next door neighbors were awakened by Allison's piano rendition of Coldplay's "Clocks."
This morning? The piano took a back seat to Allison's crisp voice, which was belting out some vaguely religious sounding song, while she was soaking her tootsies in the tub. For someone who seems so shy in public, Allison is a musical ham of epic proportions.
I've always been a morning person, but Allison makes me want to be a morning person 24 hours a day. For whatever reason, she simply can't quit singing before she heads off to school. Her repertoire runs from the operatic to disco-infested. One minute, she's kicking a leg like Michael, while telling me to "Beat It!" and the next, she's established a holier-than-thou stance, looking skyward for her musical incantation.
As much as I'd like to stay home and enjoy it all, on school days I am usually out the door by a few minutes before 7. Even then, though, I know I'll be treated to Allison's musical pipes, as the notes squeeze themselves out of the the bathroom window, landing happily at my feet.
It's like a joy shower and it leaves me singing, even in the rain.
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