Spent some time this weekend trying to teach my three-year-old "Jingle Bells."
He already had the chorus down pat like he'd been rehearsing with a kindergarten choir for the past month, so all I needed to do was help him learn a few verses.
The problem was, I wanted to share one of the versions I sang as a kid.
Yes, I can still be that immature.
But it turns out I can also be somewhat responsible.
Because, despite how much I wanted to break into my rendition, despite how funny I thought it would be for him to sing a naughty/potty version to his mother, I held off - over and over and over again.
As we practised it throughout Saturday, I managed to stick to the traditional lyrics, "Oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh."
But under my breath, I was heaving out the various renditions from my childhood, including the ones that would be considered mean now, sadly.
And I even made up a new verse about a federal agency, which I won't share because the Canada Revenue Agency sees you when you're sleeping.
A reminder: I can be that immature.
"Jingle Bells" went on to become an unfortunate earworm that played on a continuous loop - it was worst than "Call Me Maybe."
I sang it to myself while grocery shopping, eating supper at my in-laws, playing school bus with the kids and struggling to keep up with the play at Sunday night hockey.
It makes me very proud to proclaim that I kept it in and never once sang it out loud. I'm trying to teach my children well.
But it makes me not-so-proud to proclaim that my resistance is weakening and I ... can't ... hold it in ... much longer.
"JINGLE BELLS, BATMAN SMELLS, ROBIN LAID AN EGG, PLUG YOUR NOSE UNTIL HE GOES AND THEN YOU'LL FEEL, OK. Hey."
I'm sorry (as you are for reading this column).
You likely think less of me now, even if you didn't think anything of me in the first place.
Hmmm, how about I make it up to you with the new, modern, Con O'Brien version?
"Jingle Bells, Muskrat smells, a million miles away ..."
And to be balanced, here's the Kathy Dunderdale rendition ...
"Jingle Bells, Muskrat's swell, on power bills you'll save ..."
And to add a third voice, how about a verse by someone who's sick of the debate and says "hydroelectric project be dammed."
"Jingle Bells, Muskrat's hell, I don't want to hear it on Christmas Day ... "
OK, this is not getting any better, is it?
I should wrap it up like that atrocious sweater you're trying to re-gift.
Before I do, I promise to be better next week, unless I get a hankering to teach my son how to play the "12 Days of Christmas" by making armpit noises.
As you know, I can be that immature.
Reach Steve Bartlett at firstname.lastname@example.org. Follow his tweets at @SteveBartlett_