Samson has some kind of stomach bug. Poor little guy; I came home to find him curled up on Vicki looking absolutely pathetic. And yet, despite his low-grade fever and general malaise, he still felt compelled to point out the cat to me and gravely intone: "tatt." Even when he's not sick, he's not even close to walking. I think he's focusing all of his energy on acting as our in-house narrator.
Vicki has class on Monday nights, and I knew Samson was pretty much ready for bed by 5:30, so we went into his room to read some books and sing a few songs. He's pretty good about sitting still and reading, but there are times when only a song seems to have the power to calm him down. Especially when he is overtired or sick. Then, nothing seems to settle him like a good refrain of the "Down by the station" song. Unfortunately, it's a two-verse song, which means that on a night like this, I could conceivably sing it over 100 times. Which, especially when he's not feeling well, is the least I can do. And he has started singing along during the "puff, puff, toot, toot" part. I wish you could hear his little voice and see the look on his face as he waits for the line to come around. Absolutely priceless.
Even so, as I was singing to him, I was thinking tonight of an interview I'd heard with Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. They were talking about how they'd stand backstage before a show and try to convince each other to play "Stairway to Heaven" reggae-style just to mix things up a bit.
They never did, of course.
And a reggae-version of "Down by the station" is just too ridiculous to even consider, but I think you understand what I'm saying.
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