Name That Tune

Why is it that after years of music study, I can never think of anything to sing to Oliver?

I have sung in choirs since grade school. Musical theater all through high school. I can't sit in the car without the radio on. I sing when I'm vacuuming, doing the dishes, driving, showering, and possibly even when I'm sleeping. But put my little boy in my arms and suggest that I sing to him...and I blank. It's like if you put a piece of paper and crayons in front of me and ask me to draw a picture. I just freeze.

The other day I realized that it was probably best that I just choose the talking route, as the only songs that came to mind were orphan songs. No kidding. Songs from Annie. Songs from Les Miserables. Really? Les Miserables? Miserable is right- what kind of a mother sings tunes to her baby from hapless little orphaned Cossette? Oh, wait, and we named him Oliver. For the record, it we did not get the idea for his name from the super-sad, dark and depressing Broadway hit. Although it is tempting when he hits the bottle to sing out on his behalf, "food, glorious food!"

The other day, Oliver was playing on his floor gym thingy which holds a light-up musical triangle. It plays a selection of four classical tunes, all tinny in quality. The infant seat, the swing, and the bassinet all have similar attractions, and Michael posed a great question. Why do they need to make staccato, robo-like versions of classical masterpieces? If Mozart and Brahms heard what Oliver's crib mobile played, they'd be decomposing in their graves. Oh, sorry, I just had to. Old family pun. But really, wouldn't it be more beneficial, more educational and certainly more accurate to play orchestral versions? I'm afraid that Oliver will grow up and listen to his toys and chairs and say, "Mommy, what instrument is that?" And I just won't know what to say. What to say, or to sing.