It's official: Greg Wiggle (the yellow one) has left the band. Of course the show will go on, and apparently the new Yellow Wiggle's name is Sam... so that should lend plenty of confusion to things around our house.
I should say right off the bat that while I'm not a fan of the Wiggles' music, I certainly wouldn't want to see any harm come to them. OK, maybe I'd like to see Captain Feathersword keelhauled, but Greg always seemed harmless enough.
And of course, not being a fan of their music is no guard against it being stuck in my head from time to time. I actually found myself whistling the "Lights, Camera, Action" song as I walked to my car after work last night. If you don't know the song, consider yourself lucky.
If you do, it's probably now just starting to play in your head.
You're welcome.
Also, am I the only one amazed to learn that the Yellow Wiggle is 34 years old? I can't say I had any idea how old I thought he was, but the fact that he is my age is just weird. The fact that he founded this band at 19 is even weirder still.
All of this being said, I feel the need to offer full disclosure: We do owe a huge debt of gratitude to the Wiggles. Where we live, their show comes on at 7 am every morning.
Which means that at least three or four mornings a week, those guys in polyester shirts and matching trousers allow Vicki and I to get a little extra sleep while Samson sits joyfully between us on the bed, singing along and laughing uproariously at the show.
It's almost a morning ritual: He calls me in to get him in the morning [he hasn't yet figured out he can just climb out of the triple-B, and I'm sure not going to tell him], and I bring him into bed so he can snuggle down with Vicki, and we "watch a little Wiggles" as he puts it.
Good luck to you, Greg. And thanks for those extra 15 or 20 minutes of sleep each morning.
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