The other night, Molly and I were cleaning up the kitchen from dinner. John had the baby in the living room when all of a sudden, JB started singing "You are so beautiful to me" to the baby.
Now, let me begin this TALE by saying that there are MANY, M.A.N.Y. things that I love and adore about my husband... HOWEVER, his singing abilities are *ahem* NOT one of the reasons I married him.
With THAT being said... he LOVE, LOVE, LOVESSSSSS to "sing" (if you want to call it that) to the children and I for the sole purpose of us begggginggg him to S.T.O.P. His forte - Picking the kids up from school, rides to AND from church, and (his favorite) longgg road trips... (there are no means of escape!)
Ok, so back to the other night....
JB is singing, singing, singinggg to poor little Miller (who is zoning out and wishing he were back inside my belly!)...
John: Youuuuuuuu. areeee. soooooo. beautiful. to. meeeee. (high pitch). Yourrr everythingggg I've HOPEDDD forrrr (high pitch) cant you seeeeeee (scretching, blood curdling pitch).
And I said, "John, you've never sung that song to me?"
When Molly, wiping down the kitchen table in her little-witty-smirkish-almost-12-year-old-self says: "well, I guess you aren't everything he's HOPED FOR?"
We all just about LOST IT.
I snorted, acted like the adult parent that I am...
Stuck out my tongue at her and called her a BRAT!
RUDE!
