The drive too and from the daughter's school is generally unspeakable. I drive the route at rush hour, which just adds to the fun, but there are railroad tracks and commuter trains, and the good people of Santa Ana who believe that darting into traffic is a great idea.
Over the last three months, I've gotten reasonably accustomed to the circus on the road, but there are still days that make me roll my eyes. One day the railroad signal was broken and the lights flashed red non-stop and the arms went up and down at random, and sometimes a train went by and sometimes it didn't. So, it took half an hour to go about 3 blocks as drivers clenched their teeth and made a dash across both the tracks and a major intersection. An excellent time was had by all.
Generally, by the time I get to the daughter's school and get parked, I need a moment to compose myself. Then, by the time I've collected her and gotten back out of downtown, I'm usually a little more relaxed.
Today, driving up the other thoroughfare toward home, I commented, "I can NOT get that song 'Paradise' out of my head."
"I've had a calliope version of 'Do Your Ears Hang Low?' stuck in my head all day," the daughter grumped. "They played it on the announcements."
"Ew," I sympathized.
And then she began to sing it. Loudly.
"Okay," I told her. "I get the picture."
And on she went.
"It was PARA! PARA! PARA-DISE!" I shrieked at the top of my lungs to counter the horrible ditty she was singing.
"Mom!" she said, recoiling a little.
"Well..." I temporized.
"RUN TO THE HILLS RUN FO-OR YOUR LIVES," she bellowed, taking advantage of the lull I'd created.
"You keep that up and I'll sing 'Small World,'" I threatened.
"Hey, I was going to sing that next," she said sulkily.
By the time we got home, the car was ringing with a mash-up of all four.
Go listen to some good music: "Paradise" from the album Mylo Xyloto by Coldplay.