On the way, we make lots of stops, eat lots of snacks, and listen to lots and lots of Uncle Moishy

MY daughter will be 27 months next week, which means I’ve had Uncle Moishy songs stuck in my head for about two years. My sister says it’s an occupational hazard of being a frum mother.

In our house, we know all the songs: the famous ones like “One Is Hashem,” the obscure ones like “Silly Zoo,” the old ones like “I Have a Mezuzah,” and the new ones like “Make a Bracha.” Sometimes, my daughter insists on hearing one song over and over and over again.

We sing Shabbos songs all week and plenty of songs about Yamim Tovim, sometimes even in the right season. When someone plays the original tune of an Uncle Moishy song, all I hear is The Famous Uncle Moishy, who teaches Jewish boys and girls all about Torah and mitzvos. I grumble about it, mostly good-naturedly, and then go back to humming along.