The other day, Boy B woke up screaming like a madman. He said he'd had a "terrible" dream, that "We were in a volcano with lava. The volcano had a door. And Daddy was in the volcano being burned."
This happened while I was at work (I'm usually gone before anyone else wakes up). Wife tried to console him, saying that she'd seen me before I left and that I, in fact, had not fallen into any volcanoes, doored or otherwise, during the course of the evening. His fears were not alleviated. Boy A offered a solution: "Let's listen to the radio."
The boys already love music; I'm stoked about that. They have a small radio in their room that they turn on during naps and a handheld one (one of those ones for camping that you wind up to make work) that they carry around intermittently.
Boy B agreed. So they turned it on. The song that was playing? Adele's "Set Fire to the Rain." The very next song? The theme song from goddamn Armageddon. Sometimes the radio is a real bitch.
Here's some stuff that you won't hear on the radio: