I love to sing. Ever since I was a kid, I would sing everywhere. Ev-ry-where. And I’m known to make up songs. My dad fondly remembers when I was six with blonde pigtails, swinging for hours, singing songs that came into my head. The problem is . . . I kind of suck at it. The Husband would remove “kind of.” Not that I care, I still sing.
So how cool is it that Tornado E started making up songs when he was three.
And then Tornado S.
Like at dinner the other night.
He sang an ode about sour cream to his sour cream.
And that, folks, means my kid rocks.