A ha!

I've discovered why my little maestro is constantly editing my songs, and requesting a different one: this is what they do at school!

Each day, when they talk to the park, they sing. They sing on the way there, and the way back. (someday I need to hide nearby to witness this, I think it must be unbelievably cute!)

According to Vicki, Monkey's favorite teacher, a kid will start singing their personal favorite (e.g., Old McDonald)....and if the other kids don't want to sing that song they'll either say "no, no, no..." or start singing their OWN song.

It's musical anarchy.

This one's for you, Heather

Tonight as Monkey and I were in the kitchen, the apartment buzzer sounded. Our sitter for the night, Carling, had arrived.

Monkey perked up (she had been mid-tantrum about - oh - something, anything...) and said, with a big smile...

"Daddy home!"

(No, sweetie, it's Carling.)

Monkey paused. Then with an equally large grin she said...

"Heather? "

(No, sorry, still Carling...)

She nodded, and said "Heather bye bye. Bye bye Heather."

(It was so sweet. Monkey misses her godmother!) editors note - me too!

Sentences

It is fun to listen to Monkey's language develop. She's the queen of two-word sentences these days.

The best so far has been "Daddy hug?" - her way of saying please hug me daddy. I know, seriously, all together now - awwww. Stinking cute! I thought M was going to melt into a puddle of joy and love right then and there on the kitchen floor.

Everybody's a Critic

One of Monkey's Christmas presents from Grandma L was a book of songs and an accompanying cd (with recorded versions of what the songs are supposed to sound like, as opposed to my warbling renditions).

While the cd has been used a few times, the book is in very heavy circulation. Most nights, Monkey will find the book and present it to me, asking me to sing to her.

So I sing.

She'll flip open the book to a page, and I'll start singing whatever song is there (with some exceptions of truly unsingable songs, which I ignore). Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Old McDonald, Bingo, Sleep Baby Sleep, Hickory Dickory Dock, It's raining, The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and so on. All the classics are there.

The only problem? Half the time, I'll be only a few refrains into the song and Monkey will blurt out "No, no, noooo..." and change the page.

Everybody's a critic.

My DNA made me do it

Do you think a predisposition to shoes is genetic?

That an affinity to shopping can be inherited?

Is it possible that your DNA will direct you to take every single shoe off of the wall at a shoe store and chortle "shooze!" at the top of your lungs, repeatedly and with animation, until you have spent almost 45 minutes focused on that task (a lifetime in toddlerville!)?

Can genetics offer us a window into the mechanism that prompts you to select pink and silver shoes with flowers on them?

If so, modern science, meet my daughter.