I have this thing about karma. Or at least I have a thing about my own pseudo-semi-spiritual notion of what it means. My kind of karma, the "Caroline" definition of Karma (and forgive me real karma people for butchering it's true meaning) is to give and give and give. And when you give, you will get back what you deserve. I also know karma is about balance and for every good there is a bad. Yin, yang, good, bad, bladdy bladdy blah.

I said I'd never do it. Not with my kids. *MY* children were going to grow up listening to cool, normal music. My music, of course. They would never actually WANT to sing such hits (hits that have been kid hits practically since the dawn of time) as "If you're happy and you know it" or "Itsy Bitsy Spider". Pshaw. And because my children would be that wise beyond their years, they will simply chuckle from their infant carriers (cue in the Stewie voice): "But of course mommy!

The other day, while I was pulling out my recycle bins to the curb, T. asks me "Can I recycle?" I stand up, beaming with pride and a little bit smug thinking my kid is so brilliant and say "Of course you can!" Excited but a little expectant, he says back to me "Ok!..." But then, he gives me a blank look. "Um, hon, do you know what recycling means?" "Nope!" Oh, alrighty then. Its time he learned. Its time he understands what it means to be (yup, I'm gonna use it, the cool, oh so "Al Gore" word of the moment is...) GREEN.