Singing is what makes me happy. I don't do it enough and I miss it. It's that thing that connects with me somehow, that takes words and makes them alive -- not just spoken once and lost forever but living and breathing and moving forever. And it doesn't matter what I'm singing as long as it resonates for me. There is the same joy in a 500-year-old sacred motet as there is in a Dixie Chicks hit from 1998. I love that.
What makes me even happier is that Sara seems to love singing, or at least music, too. If the TV is on she can toddle around for hours paying no attention at all but as soon as there is music she stops dead in her tracks. Rob insists that there there is a music video on CMT (yes people, that is indeed Country Music Television) that mesmerizes her. And lately I have ressurected our tradition of listening to music and singing before she goes to bed at night.
It's the sweetest thing. She can be a terrible crank but as soon as I start the music she settles. Whenever there is a pause between songs she stops and listens, then says in this quiet little voice "moh." Sure enough another song starts and she begins to clap, saying "ha-PEEE, ha-PEEE.'
Oh, Bear. You make your Mama so ha-PEEE too.