My son really likes music. It’s almost gotten to the point that when I come home after work, he just about demands that I watch some music on YouTube with him. As I’m writing this, last night was no exception. However, the day prior we’d had to get up at about 4:30 a.m. to catch the flight back home after a quick visit with my parents in Whitehorse. By the end of the first song, he’d leaned down on the desk and put his head on his arm. By the end of the second song, he’d fallen asleep. This is somewhat atypical as, depending on the song, his response often includes dancing, head bobbing and more. For what it’s worth, he also likes banging on a piano, and has gotten to play with a guitar a little bit here and there.
I wasn’t keen on waking him up. My wife tried to take him off me and put him to bed when she came home not much later, but was met with a fresh burst of energy on his part.
With his fondness for music, we started asking him a while ago after he listened to a song if he thought that person is a good singer. He’s been so reliable in saying no that it’s almost become somewhat of a party trick. We’d ask him, “Was he a good singer?”
“No.”
“Is daddy a good singer?”
“No.”
“Is mommy a good singer?”
“No.”
While visiting my parents and siblings, we put this trick on full display, first letting him listen to some of his regular preferred songs and being met with perpetual “nos” before my brother played him some awful songs and was still being met with “nos.”
While driving back home from the airport, the little voice from the back of the car kept calling out “Bumps! Bumps!” which is what he’s calling his grandpa in the absence of being able to say “grumps.” So I got dropped off at home before he received a trip to Bumps’ house.
Halloween is coming up and the usual paraphernalia are out and about. My in-laws’ house apparently wasn’t vastly different. They had a witch-like statue that made a UFO-like screeching sound. The ghastly creature made him swing back and forth in a dancing motion with a big smile on his face. My wife couldn’t resist asking him, “Is she a good singer.”
“Yes.”
She asked him again.
“Yes.”
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