I was vacantly whistling a tune the other day when my friend stopped me and said, in a somewhat accusatory tone, "is that...is that from ‘Sesame Street'?" Yes, I was completely unaware of myself, belting out the melody to Elmo's World. I used to get Beatles tunes stuck in my head. Or Beck. Wilco. That sort of thing. Now I'm more likely to catch myself humming the tinny melody of the motion-activated toy that I always find a way to step on.

I knew my world would change when our daughter was born, but I hadn't counted on my music world being hijacked by puppet themes. I find myself wondering if my taste in tunes will be permanently diluted, softened to the point where my ears will passively accept anything. I hope that's nonsense, but I'm not so sure. Recently, while my wife tuned the car radio to the local Top 40 station, I sat idly in the passenger seat. Now that is unusual.

I'm also eating animal crackers with abandon. They're there, and that's all it takes. They're insidious, those things. And when you catch yourself humming the Alphabet Song with your hand in a little boxcar full of cookies, it can be just a wee bit emasculating. I feel the need to use some power tools. Chop some wood. Rev an engine. And maybe introduce my daughter to my music collection a bit earlier than planned.