My kids are confused. They want to know why we’re Jewish, but daddy is still allowed to (happily) sing Christmas music during the holiday season. My response is simple, “Stop talking! Daddy’s about to hit the high notes!”

As the weather changes and it get colder outside, I get into the holiday spirit and begin to play lots of Christmas music in the car. I’ve got my Sirius Holiday Channel pre-set and my Christmas playlist prepared on my iPod. This year, I added two new Christmas albums to the playlist – Michael Buble’s “Christmas” and Idina Menzel’s “Holiday Wishes” (Hey Idina – “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” is not a power ballad! Rein it in a little!) and I’ve been forcing the kids to listen to this music for the past week as I take them to school. Justin tolerates the music, but Garrett (who attends a Jewish pre-school) seems confused as to why the music I sing sounds very different from what he hears at school.

This morning, it came to my attention that Garrett wasn’t bothered by the Christmas music after all. He simply hated the sound of my voice. He (along with Justin) found an effective tactic so that they wouldn’t have to listen to my voice. Together (that’s an accomplishment in itself,) they began to laugh at me….loudly!! Here is a sample:

So, to my fantastic, talented, wonderful boys, there is something you should know about Daddy: I may not be able to sing as well as Mommy, but I did sing my way through Europe after I graduated High School! In doing so, I accomplished three things on my “Bucket List”:

1. More than once, I (along with some friends) sang for my meal in the Paris Metro. We actually made enough money to afford ourselves a nice dinner – with wine!
2. I once sang my way out of a fist fight in a Beer Garden. (Drunk people are happy to fight other drunk people. But, drunk people avoid picking fights with “crazy” drunk people!) Singing like a lunatic saved my ass!
3. While drinking in a German Hofbrӓuhaus, I sang a drinking song so dirty and perverted that the loud, drunk, and belligerent Germans we were with became silent. And then, they asked me to sing it again. (Someday, I will teach you the song that made many a drunk German shut up!)

You might be asking yourselves, what is the point of these stories? It’s simple: “Let Daddy sing his Christmas songs in the car. At least he’s not singing and drinking!”