Parenthood is sometimes just humiliating.  (November 2016)

Yesterday, I enjoyed a wonderful lunch and catch up chat with my dear friend. I had the Kraken with me and she was in good spirits, behaved mostly ok and kept us laughing throughout the lunch. Feeling blessed and happy, we rolled down the windows of the car, waved our farewells to my friend and proceeded to leave 32nd street whereby The Kraken and I hit some heavy traffic. The Kraken was tired, it was close to nap time and I could tell by her death like stare that she was almost in full Kraken mode. I asked her if she would like to listen to the radio. She said no and asked me to sing her “her song”. Seeing as The Kraken lacks the capacity to have just “one song” that is hers, I mentally scrambled and came up with the Elmo song. Winner winner chicken dinner. She was enraptured as I sang to her in the rear view mirror, my neck cranked up to see her. After we completed the song with both her name and Elmo’s name, we went through every family member. On both sides. Then she asked me to sing the Elmo song but this time with a Lion. I complied and she said, “No, no, no….with a roooar”. So, as we crawled along in traffic, I sang the Elmo song with the Lion, narrowing my eyes and adding roars and claws to add effect. We then moved on to a tiger and a bear until we finally landed on…. a Turkey. (At this point, I’d like everyone to get up and go make a Turkey noise while looking themselves in the mirror. It’s a horrifying bad expression which creates a look somewhere between double chin and stroke– I suspect this is what future Me will look like in the nursing home). I had just finished my final “hbplthbltphubtlp” with spirit fingers at my neck, when I heard what could only be described as wheezing coming from the vehicle next to me. There, red faced and tears streaming from now-noiseless laughter, were four young sailors who, having watched what I assume was the whole performance as we sat in traffic, were ultimately pushed over the cusp by the Turkey song. Apart from a happy child, my only condolence was that I was not in uniform.