My 4-Year-Old Twin Sons Have Terrible Taste In Music

Not long ago, my wife was out grocery shopping (aka grocery shopping). I was at home taking care of my 4-year-old twin sons (aka playing on the Internet and being really clever on Twitter). They were practicing writing letters and numbers at the kitchen table (aka throwing toys over a ledge and laughing as they tumbled down the stairs).

One of them, whom I call Bay, took a break from writing (karate kicked his way off the table like a goddamn ninja) and went to go find a carrot to nibble on (a piece of candy that he spotted on the floor that ended up actually being a small piece of an eraser).

While he tried to figure out what he was chewing on, the other one, whom I call Meechy, became impatient.

Now, Meechy is pleasant if everyone is doing and saying exactly what he wants. Beyond that, he is a complete asshole. As soon as someone says or does something that could be stretched into any semblance of disrespect, he becomes a psychopath. He once responded to his mother playfully taking his roll off of his plate by tossing a piece of ham at her.

Even so, I had not anticipated his response to his brother's slowfootedness.

He stopped what he was doing, looked over at his brother, then plainly shouted, "Hey, come on, fucker."

A fucker. He just up and called him a fucker.

After I'd stopped laughing (unavoidable in that situation, really), I asked him about it. I did this because I'd forgotten that attempting to actually talk about something with a 4-year-old is as productive and pleasant as playing baseball with your penis.

The conversation had no legs. I'd ask him something and then he'd try and guess what I wanted him to say. We did that for 10 hours (45 seconds).

Eventually I declared that he'd be allowed no more TV and no more rap* music. My logic was that there's cussing in both. (I'm almost certain I heard one of the Backyardigans call a brontosaurus a bitch once.)

And so, we've been on an only-the-clean-version-of-rap-music diet for the past few months. The only music we've been listening to in the car and during bedtime has come via a "soft favorites" radio station. Unfortunately, that means the boys' tastes are beginning to trend toward the banal, which is probably the worst thing on the planet.

Here are their five AHHHHHH! THAT'S MY FAVORITE SONG! songs that we are, under no circumstances, allowed to skip or pass over if they come on.