My mom sings stuff from the 20s and earlier, I think because her dad sang them to her. Now I sing them (sort of, because I probably get a lot of the words and tunes wrong) and my husband doesn't believe me that they are real songs and I'm not making them up.
But he has wacky songs to sing to children that I never heard of, so that evens out. (eta: He'll also make up songs all teh time. He had a whole opera that centered on a guy who lived down the street from us and glared at all the cars going by from his porch. Then we moved away and mostly forgot the songs, but "He's a drugdealer, he's a drugdealer, he's a popular guy/ People go see him when they want to get high" still crops up occasionally)
The thing about my mom singing? She can't sing. She readily admits this. Can't carry a tune in a bucket and she doesn't really like singing.
And yet she does it anyway.
I sing "One" to Emeline.
I am a Singing Mother with a minivan.
Oy.
You also sing
Popular
to her and dance aroud in a tiara. I think this more than compensates.
You also sing Popular to her and dance aroud in a tiara.
Bloody hell that was supposed to be a secret!
Owen likes Waltzing Matilda and Numb by Linkin Park. I don't know any Rodgers & Hammerstein.
Bloody hell that was supposed to be a secret!
Dude, I was BRAGGING.
But I'll scratch it iffen you'd like.
"Honeysuckle Rose" and "Try a Little Tenderness" are two of her favorites.
Wow, Robin. I wouldn't mind being woken up to either of the songs, provided you mom could carry a tune.
Travis, quit being such a tool. I'm trying to teach you to be a better kidnapper, and all you do is whine whine whine.
Hee. Hee hee. I loved that line, and Tim Daly's delivery was friggin' priceless.
I have much love for Deadwood, although it's been giving me these increasingly irresitible impulses to yell "shut yer fucking gob, ya cocksucker!" to people who annoy me at work.
Emeline deserves to have songs sung to her.
IJS.
Emeline deserves to have songs sung to her.
Seany is
soooooooo
in love with that baby.
