Daddy, Music, Clara

     Last night after Simon came home from work I went grocery shopping.  When I got home, he and Clara were in his office, watching vintage concert footage on the Desktop.

      "Is that Slash?" I asked, nodding to the guitarist onscreen working his way through a complex riff.  He had sweaty, curly black hair.

     "Jimmy Page," Simon replied.  Usually Simon finds some sort of Youtube video of sweet cartoon characters singing nursery rhymes for Clara to watch.  Either that, or he and Clara watch their favorite Youtube video--an appalling montage of cows dancing to electronica.  Clara will often run around the house yelling, "'Ancing tows!"

     "Boom band, boom band," Clara said, sliding off Simon's lap and sitting down next to his Gibson guitar on the floor.

     "What's 'boom band'?" I asked.

     "You know, from the Dr. Suess book, Oh, the Places You'll Go? 'Bright places where the boom bands are playing...'?  She thinks it's another name for music."

     Clara sat on the floor next to the guitar and strummed the strings.

     "Boom band, Mommy," Clara said, making as if to hand me the guitar.

     I picked up the guitar and pretended to play while I sang the first few lines of "Sir Galahad" by Joan Baez.  Simon winced.  Clara was mesmerized.  She thought I was fantastic.

                                                                             II.

     Yesterday when Clara and I got into the car to go grocery shopping, "Miss You" by the Rolling Stones was playing.

     "Medicine down!" Clara yelled from the back seat.

     "No, we're going to listen to Mommy's song first," I replied evenly, flipping open my sunglasses.

     "Medicine down!!!!" Clara roared.

     I backed the car out of the driveway, studiously ignoring her.

     "Mommy, Nai nunnu medicine down," she whined.  After a moment, she added, "Peese?  Peese, Mommy."

     I grimaced, bit my lip, and pushed the CD button.  Julie Andrews' four-octave voice sprang to life, singing "Feed the Birds." I hate the song, not only because I've heard it ten million times since we checked Mary Poppins from the library last week, but also because when I used to show up to work on a cold day wearing mis-matched sweaters, gloves, scarves and hats, my office mates would quietly sing it at their desks.

     "No, no.  Nai nunnu, back," Clara whimpered. Roughly translated, this means, "Go back a few tracks."

     I punched the back-track button until I found "A Spoonful of Sugar."

     "Yeeessss," Clara chuckled delightedly from the back seat. "Spoonful....medicine down, medicine down..," she crooned. 

     The girl has inherited my lack of vocal prowess, bless her heart. 

     The song went on and on, irritatingly.  Julie started to sing about a bird that's happy even though it's stressed out, what with all the work it has to do.  Julie sang, "Though quite intent in his pursuit he has a merry tune to toot.."

     "Mommy toots," Clara said, clear as a bell, from the back seat.

     "What?!" 

     "Mommy toots."

     "No, Daddy toots."

     "Daddy toots," she agreed.  But, after a moment, "Mommy toots.  Wilbur toots.  Mommy toots."

     "Did you teach her that?" I asked Simon when he got home from work.
     He looked surprised and amused. "No," he said.