Drip, drip drop

Last month I snuck in a post before February began. And now I’m sneaking one in before March arrives. I’m not so good at this blogging game anymore, am I?

Dude-ism #127

I received a voicemail from my dad last night. My parents and brother had been out running errands. The rain the forecasters had been promising began before they could get home.

Upon entering the house, Dude went to the pantry to grab some Goldfish for a snack. As he was carrying the container to the kitchen table, Dad realized Dude was singing/humming softly.

“Drip, drip drop,” Dude sang.

Dad listened some more, “Little April showers… ::mumble hum mumble hum mumble hum mumble mumble:: Drip, drip drop little April showers.”

Dad hadn’t heard this song in years. “Dude,” he asked, “What movie is that from?”

Dude didn’t hesitate. He never does. “Bambi.”

I can’t remember the last time I saw the movie Bambi. It never was one of Dude’s animated obsessions. The Lion King. The Jungle Book. Toy Story. Finding Nemo. I am never surprised when he whips out a song or a quote from one of those. But Bambi?! He was probably no more than six years old the last time he saw it. Maybe even younger than that.

However, it was raining outside, and obviously Dude had to comment on it in his own special way. So he reached back into the massive music library that is his brain, and pulled out the most appropriate song he could think of.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. My brother, the human jukebox.



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