Last night we had a certain granddaughter spend the night, as this morning Nana accompanied her to the Capitol Theatre to watch Curious George. Loads of fun. But this post is not about the theatre and sitting in the very top balcony right against the railing and Nana worrying about Khloe toppling over and she (Nana) spending time calculating the lowered risk due to bodies of other students right below who would break the fall.
No, this story is about our drive home. It wasn’t a really long drive.
But the sheer number of words far exceeded the distance we traveled.
That bit of time spent in the car was filled with language. Wheelbarrows and buckets and shopping bags of words and songs and expressive language.
First, we learned what Khloe liked. And what she loved. This changed with each new view of things we drove past.
Then we heard some songs. On repeat. On repeat.
5 Little Ducks – sang as many times as the number of ducks in a barnyard
1, 2, Buckle My Shoe – sang enough times to cover a classroom of buckled or velcro’d shoes
Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes – sang more than the number of students in her school
1, 2, 3 Jesus Loves Me – new to me and performed for several miles
The Days of the Week – sang a conservative estimate of at least 3 months worth
Row, Row, Row Your Boat – sang enough times to sink a boat, even though one of us (the youngest) got side-tracked and giggly about the ‘life is BUTT a dream.’ No amount of explaining could get her opinion of but to change.
Now Nana is used to this fun with words, but Papa not so much. He tried several times to derail the music train, but it kept right on chugging, occasionally switching tracks, but steadfastly choo-chooing down the path. Who needs a radio anyway?
All this to say, the girl is enjoying language. And singing. And silly words and word games and entertaining herself.
Be silly. Sing songs. Get giggly. That’s what it’s all about.
Other than the Hokey Pokey.