Baby Shark is Mommy-Kryptonite.

From YouTube

It’s a tale as old as time. An obnoxious, repetitive, meaningless children’s song is released and suddenly every toddler within earshot becomes obsessed. Obsessed isn’t the right word… possessed might better capture the phenomenon.

The Baby Shark craze has hit my home like a toddler tsunami. At any given time, a peaceful moment can be quickly escalated to total chaos by the sound “do do, do do, do do”. The nonsensical and monotonous tune goes on repeat as my sanity goes on the decline. And (lucky for me) there’s now a whole album of worthless Baby Shark songs to further drive a spike directly into my skull.

The only relief to be had is when the toddler tsunami sleeps. When it sleeps, Baby Shark temporarily sinks into the abyss. I like to imagine Baby Shark laying on the dark ocean floor with the rest of the world’s atrocities (pumpkin spice lattes, white chocolate, light ice cream, techno music, realistic baby robot dolls, etc.). This is the time when my mind is able to rest and heal from all of the musical abuse it has experienced throughout the day.

Now, flash-forward to my older son’s bedtime. He’s 7 years old and entering that stage of life where his mom isn’t the center of his existence any longer. I take advantage of the little one-on-one moments I can with him, sometimes much to his dismay.

I was having one of these moments with my son before tucking him into bed. We snuggled in together, watched a documentary on ancient civilizations (my son is a bit of a nerd) and got ready to say goodnight. I really didn’t want to let him go. He was fresh out of a bath, wrapped in a fuzzy robe, and looking ridiculously cute. My sentimental mommy brain took over and all I wanted was to hold him and stare at him. I told him I was going to hug him and never let him go.

Again, he’s 7 years old and he thought this was super weird and creepy. Of course his twisted little mind began to scheming up an escape plan. As I held my sweet smelling, warm and fuzzy little boy… it happened. He softly began to sing in my ear. At first I wasn’t sure what he was singing. I thought maybe it was going to be a lullaby or something painfully sweet. It turned out to just be something painful. His soft little voice sang, “do do, do do, do do, BABY SHARK!”

Total terror took over the room. My mommy powers were useless and I could feel the will to cuddle draining from my body. He had done it. He had discovered the elusive Mommy-Kryptonite. I yelled, covered my ears, provided tickle retaliation, and quickly exited the room.

Baby Shark has surpassed most children’s songs in popularity and lethality. Let this serve as a warning to all the mommies out there, Baby Shark is a thing of deep sea nightmares. It can not only annoy the living hell out of you, but it can also render your mommy powers useless in its presence. Beware the Mommy-Kryptonite.

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