Well, I totally jinxed myself with yesterday's post...both girls were quite a challenge today :-( A. didn't have school, and that totally throws off the day's routine, because she keeps E. up from her nap, demands attention, etc. Today we had a 2.5 hour meltdown in which she destroyed her room, colored on the walls, ripped apart library books, and got a fairly nasty scrape on her knee. Because E. didn't nap, she was just a dream, too. The day ended well, but certainly started on a sour note!
Anyway, something rather pathetic happened to me, and of COURSE I came right home to share it with you guys!
Okay. So. The girls and I sing all the time. Like all the time. Now, my voice is...um...interesting? But the girls don't seem to mind, and hey, I love to sing loudly, so it works out excellently.
There's this song we've been singing lately, and in it is a man named the "Bee-bop-butzaman" (that's extremely phonetical spelling there. It comes from a German folktale so I'm sure it's spelled differently).
We were driving along today, singing at the top of our lungs...
"Here comes the Bee-bop-butzaman, his knapsack on his back--biddyboon! That frisky Bee-bop-butzamen is always having fun..."
when I heard giggling from the backseat.
"No! No!" they chortled. "Sing it right!"
and I realized...
I hadn't sung "That frisky Bee-bop-butzaman."
I had sung "That frisky Benazir Bhutto."
This plunged me into several minutes' worth of deep thinking.
Is there such a thing as too much NPR?
Am I getting enough sleep?
Did I really just call Benazir Bhutto frisky???