On the list of things that make me ridiculously happy, pretty much right at the top actually, is hearing my wife sing to my children. I sing to my boys when they’re uncomfortable but it’s usually an a capella version of a punk tune. The last time I did it was with Big Black.

It works, actually, but it’s not exactly that sort of happy in-your-gut feeling that comes from a sweet version of rock-a-bye baby. Which she sings rather well. I do admit to having spied on her a couple times over the baby monitor just so I might grab a verse or two.

Life, one the whole, is sweet.