Frith O’Steen

I’ll admit it. In my past, there are some years of being a choir geek. I will steadfastly insist that they were more about wanting to actually sing in a group where folks could carry a tune, rather than being part of a group that would start singing in public just because they could (that was always the part where I’d try to shrink away from my fellow altos and look like I was in Model UN instead, or something like that. German Club. Future Farmers of America. ANYTHING is better than singing in public. But I digress.).

In my car, and in my house, I will sing along full gusto with whatever is on the cd player or radio at the time. Loudly. Bad vibrato and all. This is normally not a problem, as Decker is my sole audience. Or so I thought. I realized the other day that as I was warbling along with the “Avenue Q” soundtrack (notable songs include “It Sucks To Be Me” and “If You Were Gay”), our windows were still open. I hadn’t turned on the air conditioning yet, and it occurred to me that the groundskeepers were right outside, having lunch. Oh my. I sing a lot. Like, a LOT. Imagine the scenarios they’ve concocted about our household! And they’ve been treated to a ton of Sesame Street’s finest, too! “Elmo’s Song”, “Doin’ the Pigeon”, “Rubber Duckie”…we got an arsenal here, folks.

Can’t wait for Decker to start really singing along as well.