Bug-eyed, dimple-chinned, full two feet of him stretched to attention as he gazed unblinking (doubtless thinking “Wish she’d hold a note better”), then grinned again (“Wait, it’ll end”). When my tubby toddler had to be powdered for prickly heat the summer sun routinely piled underarm, it was this tune to the rescue.

Not that anyone could be fans of Ottawan -- they’d inflicted even cheesier “D.I.S.C.O.” on us, ugh. Yet, the instant I crooned “Hands up” my distracted firstborn would obligingly raise his own pudgy pair in the air, so I’d sneak in soothing sprinkles of Nycil. u00a0Tricks. Traits. Tender. Tough. Every teen faces brings memories surging in the heads of parents once too harried to notice, now chock full with recall. These are some favourites from my kids’ birth through bachpan run.u00a0