Mac tells me that "it's silly mummy" when I start bopping round the house singing away to my hearts content. My son, it seems, has bypassed the Terrible Twos At Five Years and Two Months and has now reached Middle Age. Both he and his father sat opposite the kitchen table over dinner tonight tutting and rolling their eyes as I warbled "It's time to step it up a notch, I'm ready to lose touch". Their sighs intimated that I had already had.
Janey is on the cusp of hating it - "It's the only thing that sends Blue to sleep but by Christ it gets bloody annoying after the fiftieth time". Auntie Ivy asked me to "stop humming" yesterday (I'd reached the bit about "The is the crossing at the main intersection" and was beating out an accompanying be-bop beat on her newly laid kitchen lino) because I was "mingling with the dishwasher rinse cycle"
Charlie has mixed feelings towards it: "The students in the house next door have it on full blast every morning, it's an okay tune but not when it blasts you out of bed at 6am every day including Sundays"
And last, but by no means least, Bea has decreed there should be a ban of all "tunes by the colourful minxes" and "threw in" anything by Rihanna, but especially the song "about the umbrella".
Of course, I'm now singing this one too, sometimes cleverly mixed with Up - am I too late to audition for Britain's Got Talent?