Love Me, Love my Singing

I was sitting in J's room a couple nights ago reading him a story about Twinkle Star, a kind of vapid tale that I'm not really sure he understood or found all that interesting since it didn't involve dogs, cats or biting insects, all three of which he seems fascinated by.

I waded through a few pages of this story as he lolled around in his crib patiently staring at me and at the end of the story was the actual "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" song which one is supposed to sing for the grand finale.

Being a good sport, I did oblige at which point he sat up and looked at me, shook his head and said, "Uh uh."

I stopped, slightly taken aback and asked him if he wanted me to stop singing. He didn't say one way or the other and as I often don't understand what he tries to get across to me, I plowed ahead as all devoted mommy book readers must.

Again he shook his head and said, "Uh uh."

So, I asked again if he wanted me to stop singing and he just looked at me. I began to suspect the worst, that he really did want me to stop.

Afraid of what the answer would be I asked quietly, "Is Mommy's singing bad?"

To my horror he nodded in the affirmative.

Well, I probably don't have to outline the many ways I find that simply awful. (Although, I will.) How can a baby not LOVE his mother's singing? How does he know good singing? And to further quell any rising doubts one might have about my singing... it's NOT bad. I may not be the next American Idol, but I can sing without making the neighborhood dogs howl.

All in all, though, I think I handled it really well. I told him I appreciated his honesty and that it would take him far in life, but thought that on the road to success he would do well to learn a little tact along the way.

And then I made up a story about him going on an adventure to the Moth Village and he seemed to like that alot and stayed awake all the way to the very end to hear about J coming home to his mother who baked him a blueberry pie.

Just wait until he figures out THAT'S a big fat lie. He doesn't know yet what a big disappointment I'm going to be in the Domestic Arts Department. Poor guy.