Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Paws for Music

The stuffed bear sat in the lap of my grandson. I pushed the paw, and Itsy Bitsy Spider began to play. I began to keep track of the other songs that their toys played. If you're happy and you know it, you still clap your hands. Heads, shoulders, knees and toes seem to be in the same places, and Old McDonald still has a farm. Row, Row, Row Your Boat is still playing; however, the babies are too young to sing in rounds. The weasel still goes 'pop' making the babies laugh. Of course, Pat a Cake is a standard. The little piggies have been pushed over by little puppies. No puppy goes hungry, and arf-arf-arfs replaces wee-wee-wees all the way home.

I have changed some of the words myself to be politically correct. One little, two little, three little monkeys. Four little, five little.....well, you get the point. I often get so bored with the same old songs and stories that I had new words and sounds. Some day these babies will grow up to sing with their little friends and have their own renditions via Grammy. Creative child rearing.

I sat singing along with the music on the kids' musical farm toy. My daughter-in-law was trying to sing along, but said she had never heard the song before. I guess when she was growing up no one worked on the railroad all the livelong day, and Dinah didn't blow her horn. I've been banned from rocking a baby in a tree top, because it plummets to the ground, baby and all.

Luckily, Sesame Street songs still capture the babies' attention. Singing about sunny days seems to lift my spirits. And, as I understand, it isn't easy being green. I don't love trash, but do recycle. And sing "C is for Cookie" whenever I bake cookies. See I did learn a lot from the show when my children were small.

Nobody comes around the mountain any more. No one else I know picks up paw paws let alone puts them in their pocket. As far as I know, few people go to Alabama with banjo on their knee or comes from Louisiana their true love for to see. I remember the old song books from Fern Fourman's music class at Franklin Elementary School. I grew up with those songs from cradle to, well, I'm still working on the rest. I know that most are carryovers from when my parents were young.

Time passes and things change. Just tried to put my watch up to Emma's ear, so she could hear it tick. Oh, my, I have a long way to go.

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