When Ski was a toddler, he used to wait for me to get home from work (9:30 p.m.) and beg me "Dr. Jones, Mommy. Dr. Jones". I would pick him up, crank up Aqua full blast, and dance to Dr. Jones two, three, four times.
The he would ask for "Sunshine", and I would cradle him like a baby and we would sway to John Denver.
This was our nightly routine for more than a year and a half.
Trust me, these are the anchor memories that prevented me from killing him those nights 16 years later when I would come home from work to find him and a bunch of skids smoking dope in my house.