I turn on the sound system and the buzz of the overhead lights is overpowered by her blowing into the microphone. "Mommeeeee? Ten you hear me now?" She's booming out the mains and the monitors. "Whoa!" She pulls back just slightly. "Did you hear dat big sound?"
"You're pretty loud," I tell her.
She grins. "I know!" Yelling right into the mic again.
"Why don't you sing me a song while I set up."
"Um, o-tay. Now how do you pway dis ting again?" She settles her little fingers on the keys and plays a strange dissonant tinkle, lips pressed against the mic, breathing like Vader. "You want a song, Mommeeee?"
"Yup, I want a song," I call from the equipment room.
"O-tay. Here it goes...Sfinkle, sfinkle, wittol tar...how I wonder what you awre" And she's playing every note that isn't a note she's singing and it's beyond adorable and it will be devastating - that moment when she can finally pronounce "Twinkle".
"Did you wike dat, Mommeeee? Did you hear me?"
"It was beautiful, Noa."
"Do you want me to tewl you a doke?"
"Okay."
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Boo!"
"Boo who?"
"Don't cwy, it's dust me."
"That's a good joke, Noa."
"Did you wike it?"
"Yup. How about another song?"
"O-tay, sur! Now let me see..." She taps her cheek..."Think, think, think...Awre you rweady, Mommeee?"
"I'm ready!" I assure her.
"O-tay, here we go...La lee la lee la, it's a bootfuwl day fowr Elmo, OW, OW, boom bidda bom bom POW!" And she slams down on the keys in a huge discordant clamour, pounding out her encore like she doesn't give a hoot - in a rock-n-roll is here to stay kind of way. "Did you wike it? Did you wike my song, Mommeee?"
"I loved it!"
She sighs big, eyes flashing around the room trying the catch the sound as it bounces out of various speakers.
"You tired?" I ask.
"Hmmm, I'm dust tired of dis old pee-yano thing. I'm gonna dust play da drums for a minute." So off she goes to drum solo me to a headache and a hope that at least one of my children will have an ear for music.
0 comments:
Post a Comment