My girls like to sing. And they do it pretty constantly. They sing their way through and about playing, cleaning, eating. Living at my house is like living in a small production operetta.
One of the funny things (as in amusing and charming) about kids is that they sing what they know, unabashed. And the words aren't always correct. Those word changes can cause one to really question the fundamental nature of things. For example: "The farmer in the jail, the farmer in the jail! Heigh-ho, the diary-o! The farmer in the jail!" Now why is the farmer in the jail when he was supposed to be in the dale? I mean, it's a question to be answered.
Or in the case of the LDS Primary favorite "I am a Child of God" we have recently heard "...has given me an earthy home with parents kind of dear." And that is pretty much the truth because, especially lately, neither Ben nor I have been very kind and dear, and it makes perfect sense that we're only sort of dear right now.
But the changing of words is not the only humorous part of living with kids who take so naturally to song. Sometimes it's just the song itself. It's the juxtaposition of your currently-in-potty-training two-year-old, wearing only her disney princess underwear dancing and singing from The Sound of Music at the top of her lungs those immortal words over and over, "I am sixteen going on seventeen!"