We are driving home from the grocery store and I'm humming. "Why have I had this song going through my head for days, and more disturbingly, why do I seem to know all the words?"
"What song?" he asks. So I begin to sing, "Cheer up, Sleepy Jean, Oh what can it mean to a daydream believer and a homecoming quee-ee-een?"
"Oh, stop singing! I don't want that thing in my head too!" But now I can't stop. "Oh, I could hide 'neath the wings of the bluebird as she sings...."
"So, who sang that?" I finally ask. "The Monkees? It's kinda' bubblegum."
"Totally bubblegum." he says.
"Well, not totally." I say, "I think of 'My Girl Lollipop' as more quintessential bubblegum."
He gives me a look, sighs, then slowly and patiently explains, "It's called bubblegum music because it is most enjoyed by very young adolescents who chew bubblegum, not because it is about bubblegum. Please don't sing anymore."
Then we laugh all the way home.