In the carpool line at T.'s school yesterday, L. suddenly broke into song. The lyrics were a little catchy, and set to "Dynamite" by Taio Cruz:
I throw my Xbox at my mom sometimes
Singing ay-oh, buy me Halo
"Where'd you hear that song," I asked, curiously.
B., a boy in his German class, apparently set the entire "Dynamite" song to alternative lyrics (and very clever ones, too), and L. couldn't get it out of his head. He sang the song over and over again, all through the carpool line, all the way home, all through Blockbuster when we ran in there to check on a movie I needed for class, and all the way back home.
I was pretty tired of the tune by then, I tell you.
Later, when he had retreated to his room after homework, I sat with T. at the kitchen table while she finished up her math. She paused at one point, pencil in hand.
"You know Mama," she said. "It's funny to hear L. singing, isn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Instead of yelling in the car," she said. "It's funny that he's singing, instead."