Cultural Education

Few things are as compelling to me as my daughter singing.  Whether it’s a few tentative bars of Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off or belting out the ABC song, the sound of her little voice stops me in my tracks and makes me breathe deep with pride.

My husband is not a fan of singing.  And live music practically gives him a panic attack.  He does like music, just of the studio produced variety. 

I grew up singing.  I was a choir girl and was (briefly) a singer in a rock band in Minnesota.  I don’t sing around Ben, because he’s unappreciative and spoils the fun.  This means I am limited to singing when I am in the shower or alone in the car.  When I got pregnant, I warned him (though I probably didn’t need to) that he was never to say anything disparaging about singing in front of our daughter.  I also theorized that our daughter’s singing would sound beautiful to him. 

I was right.  Whenever Nora breaks into song, Ben breaks into a big grin.  Nora has my love of singing, but Ben’s dislike of hearing anyone else sing.  There was a period when I would start to sing something and she would shout, “Stop!  I hate music!”  It’s weird to hear a two-year-old say she “hates” anything.  Ben swears he did not teach her this.  She must have picked this up at school.  (Same place she picked up, “I’m going to spank your bottom!”)

Unlike her father, she likes live music.  The local farmer’s market has live bands in the summertime.  There’s a bluegrass band and an African drumming band.  She stands mesmerized as I start to cry (because I’m prone to blubbering) and poor Ben starts to sweat (panic attack).  She would stay for hours if we didn’t entice her away with baked goods. 

She gets the love of baked goods from both of us.