Three little boys play with three baby dolls, and like all new parents, the conversation centres on their offspring. "My baby Jesus is sleeping." "My baby Jesus is eating." "My baby Jesus is pooping." (Surprised??) "My baby Jesus is a girl." (Now that's a surprise!) "My baby Jesus is a boy." "I'm going to give my baby a bath," says Arthur. Guess his was the pooping one. He tosses his baby bodily over the baby gate and into the kitchen, where it lands, head-first, with a solid clunk. "There! I frowed my baby in the bath." "Shhh!" Darcy reprimands. "You woked up my baby." George shushes his baby. "Now all our baby Jesuses are crying." "Go to sleep baby Jesus, go to sleep!" Darcy urges, rocking his baby and kissing its forehead. (Was his baby Jesus male or female? I lost track.) George has an idea. "You needa sing to your baby Jesus to help him sleep." Arthur launches into an enthusiastic if melody-challenged version of "I can sing a rainbow." Just then the CD, which has been on the random setting all morning, turns to The Blind Boys of Alabama. Their bump'n'grind blues version of "Away in a Manger" fills the air. Given how non-traditional their version is, I am surprised when Darcy recognizes it. "Not that song, Arthur! We need to sing "Away inna Manger", because a manger is a baby Jesus crib!" And in only moments, three babies are lulled to sleep amidst a cacophony of the Blind Boys of Alabama, and the tone-deaf Boys of Ontario.