In the bath tonight, after I took Ben to an after-hours doctor visit (he's fine; just has a virus):
Lynn: [singing] Goofball, Armor Goofball, What kind of kid likes Armor Goofball?
Ben: Want to stay here instead.
Lynn: Instead of what?
Ben: I don't want to hear singing.
Daddy: [fallen on floor, laughing hard, can't readily rejoin]