Driving me crazy.

Here's the scenario: All four of us in the car, on the way home from our annual Christmas-time visit to Waffle House. The boys are hopped up on sugar from too much syrup and Charlie has just began to sing "Do You Know The Muffin Man?" for the twelfth time. And at a pitch so high and off tune, that it is literally painful to listen to. I, personally, have had enough of Mr. Muffin Man.

"Charlie!"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"It's time to stop singing, please."
"Why?"
"Because. It's very annoying."
"What's annoying?"
"It means you're driving me nuts! Crazy!!"
"Mommy? You not driving. Daddy is driving."

Long pause as Kenny silently laughs his head off at me. I try to explain, without laughing, what that expression means. Without much luck, might I add. And Kenny still laughing.

Charlie's response a few minutes down the road: "I think you driving me crazy!"

Of course I am. And this is all from the kid who asked for a helmet this morning since it was snowing outside. What he really wanted was a just a hat.

You tell me who should be the crazy one?