cat named pig

I was in the kitchen measuring exactly identical portions of food onto each plate, lest anyone think a slightly smaller pile of beans and rice means they are unloved, when I overheard the following:

“Yeah? Yeah? . . . BELLY-BUTTON!”

That was Elliot, as you may have surmised. So I’m already laughing — because wha? – when Siena walks over to the table singing:

“Little boxes on a hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tacky. . . and they’re all made out of ticky-tacky, and they all look just the same.” 

Elliot: “BREEN ONE!”

Siena: “There’s a green one, and a pink one, and blue one and a YEL-LOW ONE, and they’re all made out of ticky-tacky and they all look just the same.“

Elliot: “PEOPLE!”

Siena: “And the people — in the houses — all went to the uni-VER-SITY, where they were put in boxes and they came out all the same.”

Elliot: “DOD-DER!”

Siena [crescendo-ing]: “There’s a DOCTOR, and a LAW-YER, and a BIZ-NESS EX-EC-U-TIVE, and they’re ALL made out of TICK-y-tacky and they ALL look just they same.”

Elliot, clapping: “Yaaaay!”

That’s right. The four-year-old was singing the theme from Weeds, word for word, and the two-year-old was prompting her at the start of each new verse. Because he knows every word too, apparently — he just can’t pronounce ‘em all fast enough to sing along.

I mean, that’s cool, right? It’s not like we let them watch the show or anything. Yet. We just maybe happened to sing that a few times while driving through the suburbs and it kind of became a favorite.*

*No offense if you live in the suburbs. We didn’t mean you — we think you’re unique and interesting and not at all made out of ticky-tacky. Please don’t hate us.