Drumroll, please!

In an effort to ease the transition to bed recently, we've been putting on a tape of music when we finally leave Edith in her crib. This seems to make her willing to let us go. She may try a piteous last "Moah nong?" from her pillow, but when Mom or Dad says, "No more songs--I love you--goodnight," she'll hunker down to listen to the recorded music instead.

We have a few tapes on rotation, just the first several we grabbed from elsewhere in the house that seemed like they would do. Edith flatteringly refers to them all as "Mommy ninging." She has been especially taken with the Brahms Requiem lately. We had it on while playing in her room the other afternoon, and at the end of the sixth movement I pointed out the timpani to her--"Hear the drums, Edith?--and rolled my imaginary mallets whenever they sounded.

She liked that. " 'Gain," she asked when the movement was over and the much less impressive final movement had begun. So I rewound and we went through the bit with heavy timpani again. Then again.

Tonight she was full of vim at bedtime, but to my surprise, she asked to be put in her crib, wide awake, after about 30 minutes of singing. I turned on the Requiem and walked out. Since then she has been carrying on a little monologue in there about seemingly anything and everything:

"'winkle, 'winkle. up up of the world so high...Mommy ning...Pink Beah benket night night...Elmo: F! Q! X!" And then "Drum? Drum?"

I sure hope this self-appointed nighttime music appreciation session becomes the norm in lieu of crying. Maybe we'll get Peter and the Wolf from the library and see what she thinks of kettle drums.

As of this week our kid has two names, as she'll tell you: "Edif LLLank!" And as Sarah foretold, she's popping out now and then with, "Bye bye, Gechen..." or "Gechen do it..." I have to remind myself to correct her rather than egg her on--it's so cute in its incongruity.

She has cottoned on to one of my favorite picture books this week, too--Blueberries for Sal. I simplify the text as we go, because there are still a few too many words per page to hold her interest. But she gets the basic issue of the mixed-up mothers and children and seems intent on its being sorted out. And then, she likes blueberries.

All the same, isn't it funny how quickly even your own favorite books become tedious when requested regularly? I've been marveling at my poor adult patience, tired of a book after one read. Maybe a day later I could enjoy it again, but not a minute later (and then a minute after that reading, and a minute after that...)