that's not fair: the musical

Graham literally laments when things do not go his way. I am listening to him through the monitor lamenting over the fact that I am no longer in the room. How sweet? Here is his song (the melody is almost the blues, three or four tones, with certain words drawn out)

I want mommy, buuuuuuuuut, she is not coming.
Bad mommy. She is a bad mommy.
Buuuuuuut, I want her.

(We change keys here and turn uptempo, like the upbeat part of behemian Rhapsody, only inspired from recent trick-or-treat rhymes of Greta's. Add in the percussion of him jumping in his crib.)

Mommy. Mommy.
I'll pull down your underpants.
I'll pull down my mommy's underpants.

Trick or treat. I don't care.
I'll pull down your underpants.

(Key change again. A wail this time.)
Mooooooommmmmmmmyyyyyy. I need you. I need her, but ummm, but Mommy. Not nice.
Pop goes the weasel.

Mooommmmmmyyyyyyyyyyy. Oh Mommmmmmmmmyyyyyyy. But, I think I will go there for one afternoon. That's OK. We have something good to eat. If you don't, I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear. I'll pull down your underwear. I'll pull down your underwear.

CRIEEESSSSS. Mom. Give me something. huhhhhhhhhhhh Mom, I need something.

Huhhhh. I'm disappointed. huhhhh. I'm disappointed. What's disappointed. I don't know. Mommmmmmyyyy, I need you. I need you. I DUST (just) NEEED you.

Hysterical frenzy.