I’m sure many people wonder if this seemingly endless broadway musical in my living room, gets on my nerves at all. I guess my ready answer to that would be to compare it to living next to railroad tracks, after a while you get used to it. There are moments, however, when I wonder if she swallowed an Energizer battery, and which will give out first, her voice or my brain. She is almost constantly singing to her baby dolls, the dog, the television, books, or whatever strikes her fancy. Every once in a while I recognize a word only because she is singing along with her tape recorder. Oh yes, did I forget to mention, that in all my brilliance I actually bought her a sing along tape recorder and a copy of the Annie soundtrack? I plead temporary insanity, of course.
I used to think that all this singing would lead to an improvement in her speech. Now I know that she just loves the sound of her own voice. Tell her to stop you say? Well duh, I’ve already tried that and as a response I get the same note only louder. If I ask her to sing the words she just holds up her hand in protest and says “Mom, stop”. Apparently I’m cramping her artistic style.
Is there some kind of important lesson or bit of wisdom in my telling you all this? Well no, of course not. I just figured that if you want a peek into this kids’ daily life you can pretty much imagine a warbled tape player that won’t stop unless it’s eating, sleeping, or otherwise occupied. I can’t fault her for her enjoyment of singing. What kind of uptight nitwit would that make me? Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish she would take a deep breath and end the song on a quiet note. I say, “Abbey, do you think you could take a break?” and naturally the reply comes back, “No”. Gee mom, that was a stupid question wasn’t it.
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