My kids hate it when I sing. This is cosmic retribution for enforcing a hard-line "No Singing at the Table" rule growing up. (Hi Mum! Hi Morwenna! No hard feelings! j/k, lol, etc.) In retrospect, I have no idea why I was such a freak about singing during dinner, but I was, and there's no undoing it. So now, every time I break into song, which given my bone-deep hatred for all musicals & general disinterest in popular music, is surprisingly often, my kids order me to stop. The girl screams little girl screams if I don't. Little girl screams rend your soul.
They actually let me sing when I read this book, which is something of a small miracle. The boy and I took turns reading out sections about mummies, vampires, and Godzilla taking a monster crap on a Toyota. This may sound like one of those horrible kid's fictions that's a bunch of winking allusions to blow jobs - Shrek movies anyone? - but it's more like the Fractured Fairy Tales from Rocky & Bullwinkle - funny, clever, and Safe For Work.
Anyway, there's a running gag about the Phantom of Opera being completely overcome by writer's block. Or no, not writer's block, but an earworm - "The Phantom of the Opera Can't Get 'It's a Small World' Out of His Head", "The Phantom of the Opera Still Can't Get 'It's a Small World' Out of His Head", "The Phantom of the Opera Can't Get 'Pop Goes the Weasel" Out of His Head HE'S GOING TO FREAK OUT", etc. As usual, I may be insane, but I've always thought the "Girl from Ipanema" was funny anyway, but the new lyrics?
Bald and pale and masked and ugly the
Phantom of the Opera is writing, but
when he knows he can't compose
he goes, "AAARGH!"
Priceless. And my monsters let me SING THEM.