Ladybug, meet Grandad Chicken

At the same time we drop my mother-in-law off at the airport, Ladybug and I are taking the plane to see my grandfather.

It will be Ladybug’s first time flying and my first time packing for an extended trip with a toddler. It will also be the first time Ladybug will meet most of my family, all of whom live up north. We’ll be staying with my grandfather, affectionately known as Grandad Chicken.

I don’t know where that name came from, aside from his marriage to Grandmom Chicken. And I’m not quite sure how my parents became known as Grandmom and Grandad Boosh except for some vague memory of my brother as a toddler calling my dad Boosh Wee Woy Junior Period Pop.

But I do remember how Ladybug got her name.

In the early days of rocking her to sleep, I’d make up silly songs that were usually inspired by our tribulation of the moment or the onesie she was wearing at the time. There was a particularly creative ditty called “Prune Juice” sung to the tune of “Footloose” when we were battling constipation. A beige circus-themed outfit prompted “SuperStar.”

But it was a pink onesie with a ladybug in the middle that gave her her nickname and another hit song, “Pretty Little Ladybug (Oop-dey Doop-dey Bug).”

It’s been a while since I’ve come up with a new song. My creative juices have been running on empty for some time.

But I have to believe there’s inspiration around the corner.

Grandad Chicken. Grandad Boosh. Ladybug.

There has to be a song in there somewhere.