Singing

One of the most horrible ironies of my life is that while I love to sing - I mean, really love to belt it out - I'm horrible at it. Can't carry a tune with an electrified tune-carrying machine. Not that this stops me in the privacy of my own home or car, but it's there nontheless.

Hunter has reached the point where when I sing he'll just look at me with those wide eyes and say "Daddy, stop singing." And i've not no defense.

However, he will still let me sing a lulliby to him. I sing Taps to him every night I put him down. Amusingly, he's started singing along with me recently but, being a toddler, he quickly tires of the normal words and starts making up words of his own. The closer they are to the word "poopie", the better.