(Available per song or as an album, which Wife-asaurus prefers, cause then you can take in the thing as it was intended, in its totality, as an oeuvre.)

Track 1: “It’s Tummy Time” (A Wife-asaurus original. If the charts could be topped by a song like this, this song would be a real chart-topper. Pokey likes it. He loves tummy time as long as she’s singing “It’s Tummy Time” to him. Minutes go by before he realizes he’d much rather be on his back, or eating, or pooping, or if he’s lucky, all three at once.)

Track 2: “Penis Down, Ruffles Out” (When I’m changing Pokey – which is way more often than she changes Pokey, but who am I to say anything – she likes to stand in the doorway and remind me the proper way to ensure he doesn’t pee through the diaper then his clothes. She reminds me by chanting Penis Down! Ruffles Out! til I’m done. This morning, I closed the door on her. Judging by her reaction, I shouldn’t do that again.)

Track 3: “I’m Gonna Pee On You …” (When Pokey eats, he eats for a long time. Every so often, Wife-asaurus needs to go to the bathroom, but can’t cause … I dunno, I guess it’s tricky getting to the toilet with a baby clamped onto a sensitive part of you. So she toughs it out by belting this song from her collection. She belts it loud. She thinks she sounds like Joan Jett. I think she sounds like someone who should shut the hell up when she’s belting it real loud at four in the morning.)

Track 4: “Monkey, Monkey, Monkey, Monkey” (The tune is equal parts ‘Clang clang clang goes the trolley,’ and ‘Dreidel-dreidel-dreidel.’ Here’s the whole entire song. “Monkey, monkey, monkey, monkey, monkey/Everybody dance with the monkey/Dance, dance, dance with the monkey/We’re gonna dance with the monkey tonight.” Now repeat that over and over and over and over and over, changing keys and octaves if necessary, until two things happen: Your kid falls asleep and your significant other runs to the back room to throw on his headphones. The good headphones. The Bose Noise Reduction headphones.)

Track 5: “I Got the Boobies!! To Prove It!!” (One of the few unexpected upsides to the breastfeeding weeks has been she’s got great big hooters now. Not that they were small before, necessarily, but damn. They’re almost obscene. The first time she noticed, she strutted around like a rapper, flaunting ‘em while she rapped freestyle bout her boobies. I tried to get her to swing ‘em back and forth for a while but she’s a prude.)

Track 6: “Crappy Cake” (Jim tried out some new crab cakes. I like ‘em. Jim likes ‘em. Most people like ‘em. I brought a couple home the other night for a snack. She didn’t like ‘em. This song is her tribute to not liking ‘em. Sing the Lollipop song, only replace lollipop with crappy cake, and you get ‘Crappy cake, crappy cake, oh crappy crappy crappy, crappy cake!’)

Track 7: “There’s a Poop In The Diaper, Dear Daddy” (Her version of the Hole in the Bucket song. And if you’re surprised she can get a whole song’s worth of material outta a six week old baby crapping out his diaper, you are not alone. I’m beyond surprised. I’m dismayed. By the way, if you’re noticing a certain … scatological bent to her songs, it’s by design. This is a concept album.)

Track 8: “You Smell Like Pee” (O Christmas Tree, only with the words changed. At first, to whom she would sing this was limited to Pokey. Until she realized I often smell like pee. Now it’s open season on me, and I can’t seem to make her realize the whole fucking house smells like pee. One walks in the front door, all one smells is pee.)

Track 9: “Golden Showers” (I always thought/hoped/prayed that if I was gonna get a golden shower, it would be, you know, sexy. Well, it ain’t sexy, getting your kid’s pee in your eye. Nope. Not sexy at all. Specially when your wife’s singing the Beatles to you as you’re wiping pee from your eyes and mouth. On the other hand, I now know kid pee doesn’t sting but it doesn’t taste good either, and she has the closing song for her album, and Pokey has a new nickname: The Sniper.)

Album Only Bonus Track: “These Are the People Who Annoy Me” (Strung together on one track, five voicemails left by Jason, Alan, Laura, Jimmy and Sarah. They’re all drunk. Jason wonders if I agree with his contention the only people who hate the smell of Christmas trees are Jews and Muslims; Alan reminds me to remind him to tell me of the time he got in a fight with Axl Rose over a woman; Laura lets me have it for not telling her the cops have a nickname for her and it ain’t pretty (Mrs. Salty); Jimmy wants to know what the fuck’s so wrong with root beer schnapps that I won’t drink it and look down on him for drinking it and if I can switch days round with him so he can impress some woman with his house in Michigan; Sarah wants me to talk to Jimmy and Cheryl for hanging around drinking and keeping her there way late on a Wednesday night, even though she was drinking with ‘em, so it’s not like anyone was being held against her will, she was just as drunk as they were.)

Album Only Bonus Artwork: Pokey Not Giving Daddy His Pen Back.