Thursday, April 03, 2003

Being around family makes you a kid again, I've discovered. But for when I'm with my sis, I forget how silly I used to be.

Case in point, this song I composed to give her a message (and make a point) some years ago, that we sang again two nights ago:

Matt Last Name called
He wanted to talk to you
Have a conversation
But you weren't home
He cried, Oh-oh, he cried.

I told him he could
Just call back later
But that wasn't good enough
'Cause he's bipolar
He laughed! He laughed!

That's a funny song.

And the song my sister would wail to wake me up some mornings, to the tune of "Pop Goes the Weasel":
Get up, get up, whoever you are
Get up, get up, get up
Get up, get up, whoever you are
Get up whoever you are.

There are no inside jokes like the ones you share with siblings. It's good that way.


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