The Joy of Karma

There is truly no greater joy than to have my sweet yet scarily precocious Angels in their car seats as we drive down to the beach, windows down, all of us belting out Karma by Taylor Swift.

They pay no attention to the fact that I can’t carry a tune; we’re nodding our heads and singing along with Apple music. “Play it again, Grandma!”

“Karma is my boyfriend.”

“I keep my side of the street clean. You wouldn’t know what I mean…”
(Picture us mimic sweeping with our hands.)

“Karma is a cat…Purring in my lap ’cause it loves me.”

“Me and karma are like THAT.”

Like Taylor changed the lyrics to her bf’s name, I change the words…
“Karma is the guy on the screen coming straight home to me.”

to

“Karma are my two favorite kids
Coming straight home to me.”

Time spent with these Angel Kids is a neverending tapestry of shared joyful memories, including singing with tone deaf Grandma.

“Play it again, Grandma!” And I did.