The Right Regrets

My husband is currently at Lowe's buying something he needs for a project. He took Lillian with him. Bless his heart.

Lillian is, for lack of a better word, LOUD. She loves to sing and talk and giggle, which is all well and good, but she doesn't know when to stop. She often makes me wish kids were born with an off switch.

Hubby just called asking for a measurement for a shelf he needs to hang. I could hear Lillian in the background, and thus I could barely hear hubby. She's that LOUD.

I asked, "What's Lillian saying?"

"She's singing, 'Oh, it's what you do to me' over and over and OVER into a 4" pipe."

If you are familiar with top 40 radio, then you know that's the Plain White T's song, "Hey There Delilah." We're fans of the song, but she hasn't picked it up from the radio or my iPod or anything like that.

You know where she's gotten that lyric?

Stupid Kidz Bop CDs that McDonald's is currently giving away in their Happy Meals.

I HATE KIDZ BOP. I've never, ever purchased one in the store. I'm not a big fan of kiddie choral music, and the Kidz Bop songs creep me out. Who thought that up, and who buys them? Really? Are the original versions of the songs just too palatable to your ears? You like to be tortured on a daily basis? That's what that Kidz Bop stuff does to me. Blood. Pouring out of my ears. It's AWFUL. As soon as the kids aren't looking, I throw them in the trash.

Lillian, however, has salvaged one and put it into the CD player/radio that's in her room. Evidently it's on repeat, 'cause she knows the lyrics to "Hey There Delilah" as if she was a Plain White T herself.

Did I mention that I HATE KIDZ BOP CDs?

"Ooooohhhhh.... it's what you do to me-eee-eee..."

Poor hubby.