A few weeks back the kids caught me singing Maxwell’s Silver Hammer as I was cooking dinner.

Bang, bang, Maxwell’s silver hammer
Came down upon her head
Bang, bang, Maxwell’s silver hammer
Made sure that she was dead

Of course, they were fascinated, and soon all three of us were bellowing out the refrain.  I didn’t teach them the rest of the song. We just sang various interpretations of the refrain.

Then momma came in.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she said. “What happens if they sing that at school? Won’t they get in trouble?”

She worries about things like that. I’m not sure why. 

Fortunately, we have an understanding with the kids. If someone doesn’t like a song they’re singing, they have to stop. Also, they have to remember who doesn’t like the songs so they don’t get in trouble more than once. We worked this out after the God Bless a Hamburger incident. It seems to work pretty well.

“Okay,” I said to the kids. “Momma doesn’t like it.”

They grumbled, but stopped.

The other day, as we were sitting at dinner, my youngest surprised us with the rudest question I’ve ever heard him ask. “Is mom staying here tonight?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Just like every other night.”

My wife had stopped eating and was glaring at the little guy.

“Oh,” he said.

“Hey,” I said sharply. “What are you talking about? I like having momma here, and so do you.”

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly embarrased. “I just wish we had a night without mom, ’cause then we could… you know…” he trailed off.

“What?” I asked, still angry.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Sing Bang Bang, Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.”

Unfortunately, he didn’t whisper quietly enough.  Even worse, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. I looked helplessly at my wife, who was arching her eyebrows at me in a classic “this is your fault and you’re in too much trouble for me to bring up in front of the kids” expression.

I shrugged and turned back to my dinner. This singing thing is starting to get dangerous.