Mama-Come-Lately

One day last week, my husband decided to play some music for the baby. People who know me well will be appalled that it took so long. (And if you don’t know me well: I majored in opera, as in singing it; I’m a songwriter; and I’ve been in half a dozen bands. Also, I wrote that last sentence just so I could bust out some semicolons.)

In my defense, two things: 1.) I sing to that baby constantly; and 2.) I’ve been busy writing this blog keeping the house spotless spending quality time with my child.

Anyway. Lately our routine has been this: After the baby’s done with his dinner, Mowgli (not his real name) holds Baboo (not his real name) while the stereo blasts Queensryche. Kidding! Motörhead.

So far, the clear favorite is Dave Brubeck. He’s okay with Mozart and the Beatles (he perked up for the opening bars of “I Feel Fine”), but he doesn’t jiggle his entire body with glee the way he does during the opening bars of Take Five. (Of course, that may have something to do with Daddy’s bare feet slapping the hardwood, something the baby now curls himself downward to look for during every listening session.)

We’ll continue to expose him to other genres and bands. Personally, I’m hoping he loves Cibo Matto.