When I was a kid, there were certain things we were not allowed to do at the dinner table: chew with full mouths, put elbows on the table, etc. Manners are manners and I’m completely in agreement with those rules.

The one I didn’t understand was this: no singing at the table. This sounds a little draconian, doesn’t it? No singing at the table? I never got it.

Until now.

Lately, John has been singing. Or humming under his breath. Or whistling an airy tune. ALL THE TIME. If he is awake, he’s singing. I tucked him in on my way to bed one night and he breathed a tune for the three seconds it took him to turn over and go more thoroughly to sleep.

Sometimes he knows he’s doing it. This morning we discussed the fact that fog is like clouds that overslept, and he sang “Clouds that forgot to wake up” and variations on that theme all the way to school.

Other times it’s an absentminded thing – I don’t think he’s aware that he’s doing it. He’ll just make sounds or tunes under his breath. I think he thinks he’s the only one who can hear it, but even when you ask him to be quiet, he isn’t. He just turns the volume down.

And reader, it is driving me bonkers. Isn’t that terrible? My boy has a little song in his heart and I am wishing I could squash that song like a bug. Sometimes it’s like the feeling when you wake up in the night with a tune stuck in your head and can’t get it out. Only the tune is stuck in someone else’s head, and that someone is always singing it and always nearby. Other times it’s like a CD is skipping and you can’t make it stop. It’s not good.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not trying to silence the poor kid. “Clouds that forgot to wake up” is a great song. And it’s kind of funny to hear what I assume is the soundtrack that’s running inside his head. But I definitely understand now why there was no singing at the table. My parents probably just needed some regular conversation that didn’t include homemade background music.