Milk and butter and eggs and cheese
Straight from the farm to you.
If you don't own a cow call Cloverland now.
I hope that sounds familiar to someone else. I couldn't have had the only dad in the entire universe who would sing that song anytime any of the above foods were mentioned. This is what I am referring to when I say that I am a product of my environment. Usually these little diddies were made up and could be about anything: pancakes, shoes, going to bed, having a headache.... The point is there was always a song being sung about something in my house. And it was usually coming from my dad.
Not so anymore. Now they're coming from me. And Ben too if we're being honest. I don't know if Ben's parents went around making up songs when he was young. (I do, however, know that they listened to some
bad interesting music. 'Acapella', anyone??? :)) The point is that this habit of singing little diddies is strong and contagious. Therefore it's possible that in the short 8 years we've been married (seems like just yesterday, honey) Ben could have gotten this solely from me. Aaaack. Because now our house is filled with the merriment of songs about pancakes and shoes and headaches and such. Always made up. Always different. Always loud. Always embarrassing if your neighbor walks in. Which did happen, by the way. Only once to my knowledge.
So when I'm making up a tune to the words "Out with the old and in with the new" every time I change Rambo's trach ties, or when we are all running around the house singing "I love you! I love you! I looovvvveee yoooouu!" from Elf, or when we become a chorus of different tunes while getting our coats on I can thank my dad. You can thank him too, if you're my neighbor. And maybe one day my kids will have their own kids and do the same thing.
One can always hope.