We are singers in my household.  Not in the traditional sense that we sing along with the radio, but in a strange sort of embarrassing thank-god-I-found-someone-that-puts-up-with-me way — we make up ditties about anything.  Preferably ones with really strained rhymes and made-up words.

You know, like the one Chris sang to my belly tonight:

Maia Papaya / Likes to fry-a / FISHIES!

And then he tickled me until both of his girls were kicking.

I so love this man.