Brush your teeth. Brush your teeth. Every morning, every night; brush your teeth to keep them whiiiite.
The kids got a small, portable karaoke machine from Santa this year at Christmas. It came preloaded with about twenty songs, and all day long those songs are played — in their entirety or as a remix — on repeat.
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands. If you’re happy and you know – if you’re happy and you know it – it clap your hands.
In a fortunate (or unfortunate, depends on who you ask) turn of events, the microphone that is attached to the machine has stopped working. I think it is probably because the baby uses its chord as a leash to pull the music behind him as he toddles around the house looking for things to put in his mouth or push off of tables.
Dinosaurs have great big TEETH to CHOMP, CHOMP, CHOMP. Dinosaurs have great big FEET that STOMP, STOMP, STOMP.
My daughter, Ellie, carries the machine around and says, “Sing” hoping to persuade anyone to push the red button so that she can get the party started with her favorite songs. She knows how to find what she wants to hear and can crank the volume to full blast, but she isn’t patient enough to hold the ON button for the required 3 seconds.
You put your RIGHT foot in. You take your RIGHT foot out. You put your RIGHT foot in, and you shake it all about.
At this point, I am not sure if the chorus of kids singing along to canned music is always playing in the background of my day or if it is has just been seared into my brain and plays in my subconscious constantly.
The grass in green. The sky is blue. The ball is white, and I know what to do! I’m a SOCCER ROCKER! And I ROCK at soccer!
Any time I stop to think about literally anything, all I hear is this music. Can’t remember what I am doing in the next room? Wondering what I need to thaw for dinner? In a quiet space trying to write? Sweeping the floors? Standing in the shower, retracing my steps to try to remember whether or not I have washed my hair yet?
Deep in the green woods animals play; hopping and jumping the day a-way. Hop. Hop. Hop like a bunny! Hop. Hop. Hop like a bunny! Hop. Hop. Hop like a bunnnnnyyyyy! Hop like a bunny. Hop. Hop. Hop.
My husband and I go to bed singing the songs. We wake up singing the songs. We joke about these songs, but it isn’t really all that funny anymore.
Driving. Driving in my car. Going very far. Down the street in my car. Driving. Feeling like a star. Bouncing down the street in my car!
“Hey, I only have one thing to say in a situation like this,” Ben said after I asked him for advice on something that did not have anything to do with the karaoke machine. “Clickety clack, clickety clack, what’s that coming down the track? A FREIGHT TRAIN! Coming and going and rolling down the track. Chugga, chugga, chugga,” he sang as he danced away.
This is the kind of stuff that needs to be in a book of pros and cons to give to people before they decide to have kids. No one tells you that the only toys that keep kids quiet play music, and that you will never get this music out of your head. It is catchy and ear wormy on purpose. The people who write this music know what they are doing. I hear cartoon theme music in my dreams.
The wheels on the bus round and round, round and round, round and round. The wheels on the bus go round and round, all through the town.
When Jack was born, he had a stuffed giraffe that played some Jamaican ska-esque tune. Any time he wouldn’t stop crying, we used the giraffe. The giraffe went with us in the car and hung on the stroller. My husband even made up a dance to that music. I laughed until I cried watching him dance for Jack in the small kitchen of our old rental house for the first time. I can still see the dance and toothless Jack screaming from one of those jumpers that hung over the door frame.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, they couldn’t put Humpty together again.
I found that toy last week. I pulled the tail and the music started like normal but then slowed to a stop before the song was finished. I pulled again and nothing happened. I don’t know what to do with that old, broken toy. Do I just throw away the soundtrack to Jack’s first year?
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky.