Since childhood, my father and I have had the pleasurable habit of changing the lyrics of our favorite songs. This was usually done while driving and, as I remember, typically with my mother shaking her head disapprovingly in our general direction.
Not much has changed. Over the years, I have attempted my craft with numerous people, most of them hostage in my passenger seat. However, it seems as though only Doug and my father share this hobby with the same intensity as me. Doug has been changing lyrics since childhood, too. And what better way to spend an afternoon than taking a drive with your husband while singing our special rendition of Tom Petty's lullaby Freeballin'?
Some of my song renditions have been replayed in my head so often that I occasionally forget the real lyrics. I fear that this will not serve me well tonight. I am going to the Neil Diamond concert with my mother-in-law who is quite a bit more prim and proper than I. It's going to take every ounce of strength to remember that the lyrics are really "Sweet Caroline" and not "Sweet Milky Thighs."