1 Mother 2 Another

Cora has always had a mighty fine set of
lungs on her, but she’s now concentrating on putting those
lungs to a good (or at least better) use than the screaming
she’s been known for up until now.


Around five and a half months I noticed Cora moved from that
newborn infant gurgle talk to true babbling; she’d lie on the
floor and string vowels and consonants together in an obvious and
frustrated effort to communicate. I’d hear her experiment
with different letter pairings, constantly searching for the
“right” one that would get her message across. I could
see she was interested and trying to imitate everyone around her,
which I heartily encouraged.


And then she discovered singing.

She’s creeping up on her seven-month
birthday, and for the past couple of weeks we’ve seen the
emergence of the next big Broadway star – or at least the
next star of a dinner-theatre production of “Annie”. My
girl is a full-on crooner and wants to share it with the world.


It’s startling, really; she’ll be lying contentedly on
her playmat gazing fondly at her dangling lion, when she realizes
mere looks –nay, even words – cannot express the joy
and love she feels for said lion. So Cora breaks into song, crowing
gleefully at the top of her lungs. Sometimes she gazes upwards in
ecstasy, but most of the time her eye contact is locked firmly on
the object of her affection.


This joyful musical interlude is wonderful, stimulating, and
video-worthy – in small doses. But her habit of doing this at
inopportune moments- loudly, and for a long time - has led people
on the phone with me to ask if I have a parrot. When playing at the
park, I usually carry Cora facing outward in the Bjorn and she
quietly drinks in all the sights and sounds as we run all over the
playground after Maddie. But occasionally she’ll find the
feast for her senses too much and crack open another showtune from
the Cora: My Life As A Musical score. Most reactions from
people around me go through three stages: delight, then amusement,
then (carefully screened) annoyance. Sorry folks – my
girl’s happy, and she’s telling the world.


I’m a little nervous about Sunday: what with our vacation and
all we haven’t been in church since this new thing started.
I’m not sure how long we’ll make it before she breaks
into song, probably five minutes into the sermon. I’m pretty
sure she won’t speak up during any of the worship songs; she
seems to only open up during silent periods.


If there’s one thing people in my family learn early on,
it’s how to find the spotlight and read the crowd for the
right moment to start. I’m proud of you, Li’l Bit.