Banana fana fo Freta
Since Greta turned about six months old, it has been necessary to sing to her so that she will hold still for diaper changes. If there is no singing there is much flailing. Flailing and poop is a bad combination, people. Bad.
Other parents seem to have children who lay quietly on their backs and coo softly and eat their vegetables and play independently and hold hands in parking lots.
So, three (or eleven) times a day, you will find me using my dubious musical abilities to woo my daughter into holding still so that we can avoid disaster.
We I sing lots of songs, and Greta has recently been interrupting me mid-song with her requests. Her latest favorite is the Name Song. I don’t even know if it’s a real song, but it goes something like this: “Name Name bo bame, banana fanna fo fame, me mi mo mame, Name.” Repeat with a new name. Endlessly.
At twenty months, Greta has started saying the last part of the song herself, the Name, and she is using the correct tune. It’s adorable, and she giggles and is so pleased with herself.
I also caught her singing Skidamarink to her baby doll today.
I love that it is music that stops her in her tracks. It’s such an innocent, childish, in-the-moment reaction.
We are very hopeful that she will be blessed with her father’s musical abilities, rather than mine.
I pray that her love of song will grow as she grows.