kiwords

This morning, being Monday, was time for Monday school. Funny how that works out. And since they still don't have a class for one-year-olds, that left Sophia and me to spend the day without our usual compliment of boys. (As we made our way across the parking lot into the school, Raphael turned to me and said, out of the blue, "Is it true? Are we really not a tall family?" And I had to tell him yes, sorry, it is absolutely true. See how much they learn at - or at least NEAR - Monday school?)

However, one very sad side effect of leaving the boys behind is that they are therefore not in the van when we drive away. This is unacceptable to Sophia, who prefers a full cast of brothers to keep her occupied in the car. She is still nearly two pounds away from being allowed to sit front-facing in her car seat, so she is left staring morosely at the empty back seat of the van, with nothing to do but object, vocally and repeatedly, to the sub-standard conditions.

I had lots of driving to do today, so Sophia had many opportunities to object. Oy, my ears. At one point she was really winding up, moving from a whimper to a cry to a full-on sob, so I started singing to her to try to distract her.

"If you're happy and you know it, shout hooray!" I sang. It's one of her very favorite songs. The pitch of sobbing dropped and the pace slowed, so I went on. "If you're happy and you know it, shout hooray!" She quieted down to small hiccups as she caught her breath. "If you're happy and you know it, then your face will surely show it, if you're happy and you know it, shout hooray!"

From behind me came her tweety little voice, calling out, "oooh-rah!"

I don't know what tickled me more, her singing along with me, claiming to be happy in her sorrow-soaked squawk, or her sounding like a tiny wee Marine.