A Dubious Inheritance

One of the things I've inherited from my mom, besides the ability to clatter dishes and specific rules about which towel you are and are not allowed to wipe your hands on, is the tendency to make up silly songs about nothing. Some of them, like 'The Firetruck Song,' which I made up one day when Johnny was sick and needed entertaining, have stuck around. John set it to music, and I catch Johnny singing it to himself from time to time.

Today I learned that Johnny has also inherited my silly song talent.

We were upstairs and I was doing basic morning chores. Scooping the cat box, making beds, wiping down the bathroom. Maureen usually sits in her Exersaucer or her crib while I work, to keep her confined and safe, and Johnny does his own thing. As I passed him in the hallway, I heard him singing to himself under his breath, which isn't anything unusual. Since he learned how to talk, pretty much the only times he is quiet are when he is sleeping and when he is chewing.

Then I listened a little closer and realized that he was singing a song to the tune of 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,' but the words were all about assorted family members. Something along the lines of Pop Pop, Grandmom, Uncle Marrrkkkkkk, Aunt Sarai, Uncle Andy, Other Pop Toooooo...Maureen, Maureen, Mommy, Daddyyyyyyyy...GiGi, Uncle John, Jamesooooonnnnnn...

Since this little quirk of mine means that I frequently get on my own nerves, I'm not so sure that this is something Johnny wants to inherit.