The other night, while my family and I were at the dinner table, I had a song stuck in my head and began to sing it under my breath. As soon as he heard the melody Brian, my brother, opened his eyes wide and turned to the head of the table.
“Dad. Dad? The rule?”
I immediately stopped singing. I knew what rule Brian was referring to. It was the “no singing at the table” rule.
I don’t remember having a lot of rules while growing up. I didn’t go out with friends a lot so I didn’t have a “be home by” rule, I didn’t know how to turn on the TV so I didn’t have a “TV time” rule, and I was conscientious by nature so I didn’t have a “get your homework done” rule. But the “no singing at the table” rule has been actively enforced in our household for as long as I can remember and, apparently, I still have trouble following it.
Of course, Brian wishes this rule could be extended. I’m sure if it was up to him he would make it the “no singing to the ends of the earth” rule. Or at least no singing while he’s talking with his friends. I didn’t realize his buddies were so acquainted with my vocal performances until that night at the dinner table.
“Yeah,” Brian continued after I stopped singing, “whenever I’m talking to my friends on Playstation they always ask me what kind of weird music I’m listening to.”
“But Brian,” I said, “I usually don’t play loud music in my room.”
“It’s not your music,” said Brian, “it’s you! They hear you singing!”
Now that’s embarrassing.
At least it’s a relief for Brian that he’s normal. He said when he was younger he used to feel weird because my sister, Shannon, and I were constantly singing and he never did. But when he got older he realized that we were the weird ones. I’m glad for him that he realized this, though I’m not sure how I feel about being the oddball. Oh well, I like singing (obviously), so I don’t think my choruses will stop anytime soon. Though I will try to not sing at the table anymore, as well as when Brian is on Playstation.