Doodaddy

“Turn on the radio, daddy!” has become one of two-year old Boobaby’s favorite phrases. She trots it out, of course, any time I try to sing. Which is dozens of times a day.

Mornings when I get Boo up, it’s “Drunken Sailor” or the “…dragged a comb across my head” part of “A Day in the Life.” My current lullaby is “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” although I like to mix that up a bit. Most embarrassing to my daughter, though, is that I sing in public, right at the playground.

Yesterday, I was spinning Boo and a handful of her playmates on the merry-go-round and so naturally I started singing “Pop Goes the Weasel.” All six of the kids just stared at me. Finally, after about three verses, I got a couple of them to listlessly chime in with the “POP” part, but the rest of the lyrics I had to sing solo. The same was true of “Twinkle Twinkle” and “Row, Row, Row the Boat” — the kids didn’t sing along until I got to the ABCs.

What’s up with that? Don’t they teach these songs in preschool any more? Kids don’t sing these days? If that’s true, it must be because their adults don’t sing either. Hell, if I’m willing to sing (and my voice is on-key the way that Britney Spears’ career is on-track) then no one should shy away from trying.

One good thing came from my goofy singing yesterday, at least. Within a half an hour of each other, two separate moms from two different co-op preschools told me we should apply! Despite the barely-hidden subtext of Come to our school because you’re entertaining and if you sing we won’t have to!, I was flattered. I tell you this, though, if I do end up co-opping at either school, I’m teaching our class to sing, big time.

And, in turn, Boobaby will have them all saying, “Turn on the radio, Doodaddy!”