“Put me the Beatles, Aba.” “Put on the Beatles for me, Aba,” I corrected over my shoulder, as we began our daily morning drive to the train station.

“Put on the Beatles for me, Aba,” repeated the Little One.

“Who are the Beatles,” asked the husband.

Ringo Starr, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Ha-reesone,” replied the Little One, in a mixture of accents.

Thanks to a children’s video called “Wonder Pets – Save the Beetles“, our son has become a full-fledged Beatles fan. His curiosity was piqued by the Beetles’ rendition of “Kelp” (I swear!), and us having had more than our fill of Baby Beluga (a rather excellent children’s CD, as kiddie music goes) made it easy to feed his growing addiction.

Like any Beatles fan, he has his favorites, and seems especially enamored of “Yellow Submarine” and “Get Back“, and in addition to singing along to the CD in the car, he’s been known to burst into song in the most random of places. I can only imagine what our fellow train passengers must have been thinking when, as we waited to pull into our stop, this little boy, holding on to the bar with one hand and holding on to me with the other, suddenly started singing, “Jo Jo was a man who thought he was a loner, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Jo Jo left his home in Tuscon, Arizona, for some California grass. Get back Jo Jo!” What parent wouldn’t be proud to hear their child singing “Eight Days a Week” or “She Loves You” to themselves?

And of course, just as we adults don’t always catch the correct lyrics, the same can be said for the Little One. No amount of convincing could persuade him to sing “get back Loretta” instead of “get back Duretta”, and “Love, Luppy Do” just doesn’t have that same ring to it. He also doesn’t quite believe me when tell him that “Get Back” has nothing do with his former preschool teacher, that “Jo Jo was a man who thought he was a loner”, and not that “Jo Jo was a man who thought he was Alona.” Oh well. At least I know it won’t last…

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And speaking of the Little One, he confided the following to me over lunch recently.

“Mommy, do you know why I love your nipples? Because they’re soft, and I can jump at them like this…”

Anyone else sensing a fetish pattern here? At least he was practicing his English…

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