Talking toys are a menace.

It is not enough for a toy to be a mere plaything anymore, it must also talk or sing in a voice that sounds like Pee Wee Herman on helium.

A case in point: I was sleeping away the other night when one of my 2-year-old son’s toys in an adjacent room began singing the ABCs song. The toy, a green plastic centipede, trilled through “L-M-N-O-P” as I staggered through the living room bent on violence.

“I’ll give you something to say ‘O-P’ about,” I hissed as I turned over couch cushions in search of the source of this midnight serenade.

When I was a kid, the only talking toys were dolls. Remember Chatty Cathy? Chatty Cathy knew when to shut up. She remained silent unless you pulled a string in the middle of her back. (A generation of boys who grew up in the 1960s could not understand when their first girlfriends would not extend them the same courtesy.)

They tried to make a talking G.I. Joe toy, too, but no self-respecting boy wanted an Army doll that sounded like his dad. The whole point of a toy Army-man doll is for him to remain mute while you make slobbery, exploding noises with your mouth. A doll with a voice deep enough to sing the “oom-papa-mow-mow” part in “Elvira” is just creepy.

When it comes to talking, today’s toys have no inhibitions. As far as they are concerned, they are third-graders on a sugar rush and you are the substitute teacher.

Most modern talking toys are motion activated. You learn this the first time you are on a trip with a toddler and you suddenly hear a tiny voice coming from the trunk of your car.

Your first thought: “Oh my gosh, little Mike from the cul-de-sac has curled up in the back of our Toyota.”

The truth is far more insidious. The little voice is coming from your kid’s listen-and learn-toy, which is buried under mountains of luggage. By the time you pull over on the interstate and dig down to the toy, you are prepared to silence the perpetrator by whatever means necessary. This is guaranteed to traumatize your kids, who know only that daddy is suddenly standing on the side of I-75 beating a Leap Pad to smithereens with a socket wrench.

My son also has a little electronic toy that mimics the sound of a snare drum.

The other day, I tried to teach him how to execute a single-stroke roll. He was making real progress until the toy — suddenly taking on a life of its own — began to sing melodiously: “Play the drum everyone, play the drum.”

This is technology run amok. Do we really need a singing drum? I reached for real drumsticks and administered a rim shot.

This toy hasn’t made a peep since. Nor have any of the others, come to think of it. Word of mouth, I guess.

E-mail Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com