There is, as you know, upheaval on the home front. From dawn til dusk our house is lousy with workers. With air compressors firing nails at 100 p.s.i., circular saws ripping plywood, and 'Bob' tearing out a plumbing stack, it's hard for a girl to get any sleep. The well-intentioned Plan B involves assmembling my travelling crib in Pap Pap's kitchen-turned-sleeping chamber, and me settling down for an early p.m. snooze. So I like to sing myself to sleep. Big deal, right? I would not have suspected that Pap Pap, of all people, would go all John Ashcroft on me. Dad - yeah, I could see Dad doing that. But Pap Pap? Well, I guess it's true what they say: the tree doesn't grow far from the -, er, the apple doesn't fall far from -. Or whatever.
Admittedly having stealthily recorded the same song being sung prior to a completely different nap (in a completely different state, no less), I must say I am duly impressed and dare I say proud, of the evolution of this song over the course of only a week or two. Your command of the song content- your emphasis on certain words and the feeling behind them- is truly quite impressive! Oh, and when your pediatrician asked at yesterday's two-year checkup, whether or not you had started talking in two-word sentences, we should have just asked to call up your blog and show her.
Posted by: Vanna | 12/17/2010 at 07:11 AM