Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Little rocker girl
My baby girl loves music.
Perhaps she will grow up to be a rock and roll star. Or maybe she'll grow up to be a groupie. Maybe she'll be Maria coming from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand. Maybe she'll want to meet a boy who looks like Elvis.
Probably she'll be none of those things.
But her love for music right now is pretty darn sweet.
Sunday afternoon, for example, I knew she was tired. Yet, she wouldn't let herself fall asleep. I put her in the swing, which usually always does the trick. She fussed and squawked for 10 minutes or so in there. I was finally about to take her out when I thought I'd try music.
One minute of Wilco and she was out like a cat in the sunny spot on the carpet.
Most evenings, she and I retreat to the kitchen where I plug my iPod into speakers and turn it up loud. We listen to Wilco and Death Cab and Pink and that one Tilly and the Wall song that's really great. Last night, we put it on shuffle and heard Tracy Chapman and Carly Simon and New Kids (ahem) and Clay Aiken (AHEM) and a few others. It puts her to sleep within minutes. Every single time.
It's great for me. I get a baby that not only stops crying but lays so at peace in my arms that I sort of want to never let her go. And I get to listen to music, loud.
Rock on, baby girl.