Why our child will need a shrink.

I wake up this morning to a strange sound. A sound I am not accustomed to.
I look over to the pillow beside me and see my husband is not there snoring La Marseillaise.
However, his feet are poking out the end of the bed and suspiciously tapping against the bed frame. .
When I listen carefully, I hear the sounds of my very French husband softly singing Mockingbird to my stomach. On further listening, I realized this was not just any Mockingbird. This was Eminem's Mockingbird. The Banned Eminem, symbol of evil, that my husband had promised would never enter our house by any means, electronic, musical, pictorial or otherwise. The Eminem version of this childhood that I was not aware my husband had every heard, let alone able to recite at 8am to our Tadpole.
I pull the covers back to reveal my guilty husband.
"Why don't we just sing Baby Got Back," I suggest. "This baby is doomed from the beginning."