We are singers in my household. Not in the traditional sense that we sing along with the radio, but in a strange sort of embarrassing thank-god-I-found-someone-that-puts-up-with-me way — we make up ditties about anything. Preferably ones with really strained rhymes and made-up words.
You know, like the one Chris sang to my belly tonight:
Maia Papaya / Likes to fry-a / FISHIES!
And then he tickled me until both of his girls were kicking.
I so love this man.