I sing to Mr. Man all the time. I have a fairly terrible voice, but he doesn’t care, and sometimes it prevents him from launching feet into my chest and face while I’m attempting to change his diaper. Little Man requests all sorts of songs throughout the day, and I love looking at his beaming smile during the multiple renditions of every childhood song I’ve had to learn throughout these two years. Naturally, the Warrior Queen was along for the ride, unable to escape the tunes my son urged.
I’m also perpetually reading stories to my son. All varieties from well written to garbage that I can’t remember receiving. It doesn’t matter what it is; he just loves a tale. When my daughter had the room to move in my belly, I often felt her flipping a certain way whenever I read a book to my son. Once she ran out of room, such movements stopped, but I felt confident she continued to enjoy the entertainment.
Now that my fierce girl is born, it is too early to know if she will enjoy books on the level as her brother; I hope so. But, undeniably my singing provides comfort I never expected.
My first indication was seconds after her birth, wailing as all newborns do when thrust into the outer world. My singing calmed her so quickly it didn’t completely register at the time. If my husband hadn’t recorded it, I might not believe it almost a week later.
As I did with my son, I held my daughter throughout those first days in the hospital singing even when she was asleep. When she was unhappy and uttering her discontented squeaks, a chorus of some random tune would be hushed in melodic breaths, and she would settle.
One occasion occurred just after I fed her a bottle. Within minutes of my placing her in her hospital Tupperware container, she began to fuss, clearly not ready to be on her own quite yet. I returned her to the crooks of my arms, wide awake she focused on my eyes as I sang. With every ounce of effort she kept her eyes open, but they became heavier as the moments passed. My girl fought sleep as long as she could, peering through barely visible slits before losing the fight. The slumber kept that time, but I continued to hold this sweet girl who already knows what she wants. And, times such as these I’m only too happy to oblige.