1 Mother 2 Another

One of the things on Maddie’s birthday list was an iPod karaoke machine. Unfortunately for the future of peace and quiet in our household, she got it.

I have to admit that it’s my fault; I thought she’d like it, since she’s always asking Daddy to plug a microphone into his amp and let her sing “Twinkle Twinkle” or something. So when I found this machine I couldn’t resist: it’s a microphone and stand with a port for your MP3 player, and at the touch of a button the lead vocals are taken out and it becomes your very own karaoke machine. It’s got speakers built in, and even an outlet for a second microphone, so we knew she’d get years of use out of it.

Maddie’s on a Little Mermaid kick right now (not sure if I’ve mentioned that, I say sarcastically) and part of her obsession involves singing Ariel’s song over and over and over again. So when Maddie saw that she could sing the song with accompaniment into a mic, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. She quickly threw on her Little Mermaid costume – another birthday present – and put on a show for all the partygoers.

We had to get out a stool for the young starlet to stand on to reach the microphone, because she opted to leave the mic in the stand at first. Maddie was intimidated to start off, but quickly warmed up to the spotlight and was slinging that microphone around like a seasoned cabaret singer in no time. When she finished singing about being Part of That World, she stepped down and graciously offered Cora a turn.

Cora – who has also memorized the mermaid’s song – quickly jumped up on the stand, then turned to Maddie and said, “I’m gonna need that dress, Maddie.” I knew there was no way we’d be able to persuade Maddie to part with her new Ariel costume, so I encouraged Cora to stay in her own dress-up gown and sing away.

My littlest one – who’s just barely two – sang the entire song into that microphone, never faltering, never backing away. It was only at the end, when the room erupted into thunderous applause, that she became overwhelmed and rushed to my arms.

Ever since Maddie’s birthday last week, the microphone set has lived in a prominent place in our living room. The girls will often get up in the morning and demand the equipment be powered up so they can get to singing. Maddie doesn’t even need help; she flips the power on the stand and expertly turns on the switch on the microphone as well.

I’m telling you, it’s disconcerting to be blearily staggering around getting breakfast, only to see a newly-minted four-year-old power up her own accompaniment, step up to the microphone, and then say, “Test, test, test, is this on? Can you hear me in the kitchen?”

Back when I put this thing on her list, I had fuzzy visions of some cute little performances every once in a while. But the reality is a preschooler who walks around the living room, mic in hand, making up songs a capella about whatever she’s doing at the moment and singing them out for the whole room to hear. They go a little something like this:

“Maddie leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeans against the window, hoping to go to the pool; she waaaaaaaaaaants to ask Mommy but doesn’t want to feel a fool.”

Again, I cannot make this stuff up.

And let’s not forget Cora – in spite of her illness last week, she was at the microphone any time her fever abated long enough to give her the strength to get up on that stool.

Yeah, I might have made a mistake here.