dootdoodoo. dootdoo. doodoodoo

I need to talk about "Baby Shark."

My sister wanted me to cut and color her hair. I wanted to cut and color my sister's hair. We never have enough time for me to properly infuse my sister's head with the full potential of my amateur cosmetology prowess. I thought we had it rough with our tight schedules and lack of patience. There has to be a special breed of salon masters who specialize in cutting new parents' hair while they're holding on to a bored squirmy child.
Enter Baby Shark. We listened to this song on a loop for literally hours. Here's the crazy part: I never got sick of it. I love this stupid song. My darling baby niece loves this stupid song. My sister puts a soothing, happy bounciness to this song when she sings it with a dimpled smile to her daughter. I thought the best song in the world was "Good Vibrations" from the Beach Boys, but it might have just been bested by a baby shark (dootdoodoo dootdoo doodoodoo).

My dad is the type of man who listens carefully for a spark of passion in your conversation, researches it, masters the knowledge, and educates you further on what you already love. If you mention a band's music video, for example, he will research the band, the video, other videos by the band, other bands under the same record label, news about the band, individual band members' solo projects, etc.

... My sister has just introduced my dad to "Baby Shark."