It's not news that Maeve makes pretty consistent demands that I sing various tunes to her. If there's no TV to entertain her, then Momma better be picking up the slack. But it's getting more detailed these days.
Not only does Maeve often have in mind a specific song she'd like to hear, she now feeds me the lyrics, mostly nouns pulled from the lyrics, but in the correct order.
Here's an example: her favorite song, 7, from They Might be Giants' Here Come the 1 2 3's:
Maeve: Seven. Door.
Clara: Oh it's the doorbell, let's see who's out there. It's a seven.
Maeve: Hi.
Clara: Hello, Seven, make yourself at home.
Maeve: Guy.
Clara: Hey, who's that other guy?
Maeve: Seven.
Clara: Oh it's a seven,
Maeve: Hi.
Clara: Hello Seven, won't you come in as well.
Maeve: Cake.
Clara: Now, who would like some cake?
This goes on all day. I am starting to feel like a jukebox, like a very forgetful jukebox that needs a lot of coaching and encouragement.
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| A brief respite from the singing. |
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