I'm going to have to pay for serious therapy for my kids for this, and I'm probably going to hell for it, aren't I?

To quote Blackadder, "Sometimes I like to sing little songs".My daughter was at the doctor getting a splinter removed, and was freaking out. There was a big sticker of a penguin on the wall (our doctor's office has animal stickers on the walls of the rooms). The doctor told her to look at the penguin instead of at her hand where the splinter was. I started singing a variation of the song that the Elizabethan Blackadder sings when he gets drunk:See the little penguinSee his little feetAnd his little toesy-woesIsn't the penguin sweet?My daughter loved it, and asked me to sing it over and over. Which I did.Today, we were doing the standard morning routine of me trying to get the kids to sit down so I can put their socks and shoes on. I usually have them sit on the stairs to do this, so I don't have to bend over so far. This morning, I sang to the tune of Monty Python's "Sit On My Face":Sit on the stairsAnd let me put your shoes onThe kids loved it. (And they let me put their shoes on with less than the usual fuss)They're going to need therapy when they're older and realize where those songs came from, aren't they? I also suspect I'm going to hell for this. via /r/Parenting https://ift.tt/2tl8NRT