After a rousing rendition of Pat Your Tummy with Leif tonight I decided to calm him down by dancing to I Don't Want To Live On The Moon.
Hearing my little boy sing along softly in my ear turned me into a complete puddle.
Even after repeated requests to play it again, the tears still dripped. Something about remembering myself in 1978 or so glued to the TV watching Ernie. I am pretty sure this was after I insisted everyone call me Ernie (and my grandpa was the only one who abided by my demands).