Rosebuds: I don’t do nursery rhymes

By: Michelle Carl, Managing Editor
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Girl, look at that baby

Girl, look at that baby

Girl, look at that baby

Uh-uh, I work out

When I walk in the spot, yeah, this is what I see

Everybody stops and they’re staring at me

I got poopies in my diaper, and I ain’t afraid to show it

I’m Wesley and I know it.

Nominate me for the Mom of the Year award now – I bastardize LMFAO songs to sing to my baby. But I can’t think of the lyrics to any other tunes except for the popular music that’s always stuck in my head anyway. This summer, “Call Me Maybe” became “Call Me Baby.” “I Can’t Help Myself” by the Four Tops is a standard.  And Michael Jackson’s “Rock with You” is surprisingly appropriate when you’re stuck in a rocking chair ... “alllll niiiigggghhhht.”

You should have heard my first attempt at “Hush Little Baby.” Momma was buying mockingbirds, then diamond rings, then ... um, what do you buy when the ring won’t shine? A porcupine? A ball of twine?

I’m slowly building up a repertoire of Itsy Bitsy Spider and Where is Thumbkin? But when you need a song to quell the fuss monster, and the only thing in your mental jukebox is Madonna, you’re going to sing “Like a Virgin” to your baby.

Michelle Carl is the editor of the Roseville Press Tribune and Wesley's mom. Rosebuds, a column about parenting in Roseville, appears on Mondays.