"I am a rubber chicken!"

Summer vacation is barely 24 hours old, and already the soundtrack is in full swing.

The scene: Brandy and I are nursing our coffee, while Benjamin is eating his breakfast at the butcher block table in the middle of the kitchen. Only Benjamin is not eating. He's singing, dancing, and leaning on the bar stool so it is tipped precariously, millimeters away from falling over and crushing his toes. Sam is playing Pokemon on the Nintendo DS, while Mason is bouncing off the walls and furniture.

Brandy looks over at me, and mouths to me, "Take me with you."

I give her a hug, and whisper, "So you'd like to come with me to a boring luncheon, and eat rubber chicken?"

She nods emphatically, while Benjamin, overhearing my rubber chicken comment, decides to change the lyrics to his homegrown song.

"I am a rubber a chicken!" he sings at the top of his lungs. "I am a rubber chicken!"

Ah, the soundtrack of summer, home-office life....